Vulcan Twilight
by Kemurikat
Summary: The Cullens welcome an alien addition into their already unusual vampire family. Warning: bad language & mature subject matter. A highly ambitious fic colliding the universes of Twilight and Star Trek 2009. -WIP-
1. The Thing Bleeds Green

Disclaimer:

All Star Trek characters belong to Gene Roddenberry, and all Twilight characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. Most aspects of this story were inspired by the movies of both franchises. My apologies to the actors of Twilight whose faces I'm using, and kudos to the new creative team behind the Star Trek reboot, whose character Spock (played by actor Zachary Quinto) is the one I'm borrowing for this hilarious bit of homespun 'heresy'.

***The events, characters, organizations, and any other names depicted in this novella are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual organizations is purely coincidental.***

(Yes, I'm aware that Stephanie Meyer used places in Washington state that _do _exist. Just letting everyone know that I have no deliberate intention of scaring the actual residents.)

Hey, it's fanfiction, so give it a try! And, please, throw all expectations out the window. (I mean it. LOL)

Gah. Even _I_ have no idea where this is headed! 'To boldly go where no crossover fic has gone before'...or since...or ever...!

This story takes place three years before Isabella Swan came to live with her dad, Charlie Swan, in the town of Forks.

* * *

**Vulcan Twilight**

-Twilight/Star Trek 2009 Crossover fanfiction by Kemurikat-

* * *

**Prologue**

Although he piloted a vessel of advanced technology created more than a hundred years into the future, it was not invincible. The Enterprise was under heavy fire and was unable to stop all of the deadly projectiles aimed at his Vulcan craft.

He was well aware of the gamble he and Kirk had taken, and had resigned himself to the consequences.

However, he had promised to _return_ to her...

Yet his fingers rapidly tapped his console as he maneuvered his vessel to execute a collision course toward the most damaged area of the enormous Romulan warship. Despite the pain of his injuries, he forced his body and his crippled ship to stay its course.

The war criminal known as Nero had to be punished for the catastrophic annihilation of his home planet and it's six billion inhabitants, his mother numbering among them.

Witnessing his mother's death affected him in ways he could not explain, opening a floodgate of emotions he thought he had learned to suppress.

With seconds left to live, his mind dwelt on a singular regret...

_Forgive me, Nyota._

_I love you._

* * *

**Chapter 01 - The Thing Bleeds Green**

He stared wordlessly at the unconscious, ravaged body that was laid on a blanket atop the stone counter-top of the custom kitchen island.

"Carlisle! What the hell _is_ it?" Edward asked in agitation.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Dr. Cullen replied. "At the moment, I'd settle for knowing how to save its life." He didn't like the amount of blood - if he could even call it that - soaking the gauze he pressed to a wound on its upper abdomen.

Recently pulled free, sizable wood splinters were among the various objects that littered the stone floor, each thickly coated with a greenish liquid that Esme efficiently scooped with a rag as she went. A cornucopia of medical supplies and instruments were scattered haphazardly around the kitchen, a surprising change to Carlisle's normally neat, methodical manner. As an accomplished doctor, (with centuries of experience) he knew precisely what was needed after a diagnosis, and only surrounded himself with the exact tools he required to complete his task.

In this case, for the first time since Edward had known him, Carlisle was at a loss and it clearly frustrated him.

"Esme and I were hunting when it appeared out of nowhere, falling hard and fast through a group of trees. I pulled out all the debris I could find. In the condition this creature's in, I'm amazed it's still _alive_," Carlisle declared, an expression of awe dominating his features. "But I wish it would stop bleeding. It's not like I can give it a transfusion."

Interestingly enough, the creature's greenish blood gave Edward no desire to attack it out of hunger, and even if it did, he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to bite the thing. His aversion to the creature's blood was a good start and he recalled his experiences assisting Carlisle with his medical practice from time to time in the past. Perhaps a flash of insight might present itself, allowing him to help the poor creature. Surrendering to curiosity, he rolled up his sleeves and moved closer to the island.

Without warning, the creature's left hand shot up, clamping securely around Edward's right wrist. The instant it made physical contact, he gripped the table for support in sudden disorientation.

Both Carlisle and Esme were transfixed with worry as they watched Edward struggle to stand, his face grimacing in pain and confusion. It took all of their willpower not to approach him and dislodge the creature's hand, which held on so tenaciously.

"One more...missed...to stop...bleeding," Edward began saying, batting aside Carlisle's hand that held a wad of gauze covering an open wound on the creature's upper right abdomen.

Carlisle watched as an unseen force guided Edward's nimble fingers, pulling out a sliver of metal from somewhere within the bleeding mess.

"Safe...close...heart...no more danger...will slow...blood loss," Edward stammered through gritted teeth, his fingers pointing to the areas that needed suturing. Gasping loudly, he leapt to the opposite side of the kitchen when the creature's hand went slack, Esme dashing to his side.

Brow furrowed in disbelief, Carlisle took a minute to examine the open wound, quickly repaired the damaged areas as instructed, then quickly sewed it shut .

Shaken by his experience, Edward sat on the floor staring fixedly at one of the mysterious creature's pointed ears.

* * *

_Six months prior to Edward Cullen's bizarre encounter..._

Several decades had passed since they last lived in Washington State, particularly near the small town of Forks along the Olympic Peninsula. Their stay in Alaska had run its course, and it was customary for the Cullen family to leave an area before the local residents became too suspicious.

Destructive gossip was spreading among the nurses at the hospital in Anchorage were Carlisle was stationed. After thirty-five years, it was very strange for the man to remain as youthfully vibrant as he was when he first arrived, and other members of the family began experiencing the same problem in their individual occupations.

The Cullens didn't age because unbeknownst to every human being that lived and breathed on the face of the planet, the Cullens were, in fact, _vampires_. It was the only definition they had to explain their supernatural existence.

It was common knowledge among their kind that the majority of vampires scattered across the world were nomads or rogues, while some formed successful attachments and grouped themselves into covens. The largest and most powerful coven, the Volturi, resided in Volterra, Italy and were regarded as vampire royalty.

For what passed as normal in the vampire world, the Cullens were regarded as a freakish aberration to their race. What set them apart was their strict adherance to a philosophical ideal embodied by their 'father' Dr. Carlisle Cullen, who believed that despite their natural inclination to feed on human blood, every vampire _had_ the willpower to make a conscious choice _not_ to prey solely on human beings for food. Many vampires rejected this practice, since the act itself, of _abstaining_ from drinking human blood was nearly impossible. The overwhelming blood-lust accompanied by the lure of blood-scent and the frenzy of the feeding process were such _powerful primal instincts,_ it made conscious control ultimately difficult. As well, the taste of animal blood as an alternative was highly unappealing to vampires in general.

Another trait that set the Cullens apart was their use of the word 'family' to describe their affiliation to one another. The competitive nature and fierce independence inherent in every individual vampire prevented harmonious cooperation within large groups, where numerous rivalries turned fatal, resulting in diminished ranks or the coven's immediate dissolution.

Despite widespread resistance, Dr. Cullen remained enthusiastic about his family and their 'vegetarianism'. (It was a term jokingly put forth by Edward in the early years after his transformation as Carlisle's first companion)

And so, after living peacefully with the local residents for several decades, Dr. Carlisle Cullen uprooted his unusual family from Anchorage, Alaska and decided it was time to return, once again, to hunt the forests of Olympic National Park in Washington state.

First came the preparations. Esme and Carlisle went ahead to survey the acres of property just outside Forks, Washington that still remained in their name. They also had to assess the amount of repair or renovation that was needed to the existing house for it to be comfortably habitable. New documentation had to be forged to reflect their ages, reverting them back to the earliest number they could physically manage, which allowed the family the opportunity to remain longer in the area. This meant that the 'children' had to attend the local school, a role that Jasper - the Cullen's newly adopted vegetarian - was earnestly dreading. With job placements eagerly awaiting Dr. Cullen and his wife Esme, the new stage was set.

Secondly, came the move with all the gossip and excitement that customarily happened with it. The town of Forks didn't disappoint them as they each encountered a multitude of prolonged stares and whispered comments that first impressions generated. Of course, it didn't help that every member of the Cullen family was irresistibly attractive to the town's population. Although they were accustomed to predictable patterns of human behavior whenever they settled down in a new place to live, it didn't mean they were entirely comfortable with it.

"I _hate_ moving," Rosalie grumbled, earning a laugh from Emmett.

"Cheer up, babe," Emmett crooned, as he embraced his lovely mate tightly from behind. "New town, new school. Just think of all the helpless boys you'll be reducing to putty at your feet."

"Mmmm...that's what I love so much about you. You know _exactly_ how to cheer me up," Rosalie purred, turning around.

The couple then decided to treat the other family members present to a spirited display of tongue hockey.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Edward remarked in annoyance, throwing the thickest encyclopedia he could find toward Emmett's head which Jasper intercepted.

"Hey, use your own books!"

Alice giggled as she watched Edward wrestle Jasper around the living room.

"Boys, break anything and I break you," Esme threatened, but shielded her smile of amusement with her right hand. Her body tingled warmly when Carlisle stood behind her and enveloped her in his arms. "We've done this a million times, but somehow, it never gets any easier."

"I truly wish there was a way to co-exist peacefully with the human population with no need to keep hiding or keep pretending. There are days when the very _thought_ of relocation repels me," Carlisle said softly, wistfully observing the antics of his 'children' as they openly gallivanted while unpacking. "Which reminds me, I need to check in at the local hospital this afternoon."

The family had a weekend to unpack and explore the area, to familiarize themselves with their new territory, but more importantly, to re-establish the firm treaty they had with the local Quileute First Nation that resided near the shores of La Push beach, a few miles west of Forks.

In 1936, decades before Alice and Jasper decided to join their family, the five of them resided in Hoquiam, south of Forks, and were caught hunting for game on Quileute lands. Two warriors that had accompanied the Last Great Chief, Ephraim Black, watched warily from the sidelines as the authority figures of both sides forged a treaty that held faithfully to this day. However, the current descendants of Chief Black weren't entirely pleased by the return of the 'Cold Ones', and vowed to stay vigilant against a possible attack.

"Huh, that went well," Emmett snorted, tossing the keys of his extremely rugged, off-road jeep into a metal box in the spacious garage.

"As good as it gets when you're dealing with a pack of superstitious children," Rosalie remarked sourly.

"The Quileutes are a people of their word. Besides, you can't begrudge any living being the simple act of self-preservation. They're protecting their families, just as we do ours," Carlisle stated calmly.

"Speaking of self-preservation...are you sure it's wise that I attend the local school?" Jasper asked, turning to face the family patriarch. "Even with Alice by my side...I don't know if I can..."

"You'll survive; or more accurately, the school's population will. Don't fret, Jaz, you'll do fine," Edward grinned in a supportive manner, chuckling at the look he received.

Dancing into his arms, Alice gave her mate a tender kiss on the cheek.

"Edward's right, my love. Besides, I'll know exactly when or where if you ever lose control - which you _won't_," Alice reminded him sternly, staring reassuringly into Jasper's eyes, her hands holding his face firmly in place. The couple shared a chaste, but loving kiss, Emmett heckling them in the background.

"Anyone interested in a movie?" Esme asked cordially from inside the house.

"If it's a chick-flick, I'm out!" Emmett hollered back.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Well, love it or hate it, I'm curious to see reader input!

I'm sketchy on Vulcan physiology. There aren't that many comprehensive websites that give me the answers I'm seeking. And as far as signing up for a forum, the Official Star Trek site kept crashing on me, so I abandoned my registration. I'm accepting volunteers to be my Vulcan advisors. Been a Star Trek fan since Next Generation, and returned only recently since the new movie came out, so it's been a while. ^_^

I got sucked into the Twilight universe right after I was exposed to the movie. I thought the film was wonderfully done, most especially the cinematography, so naturally, I sought out the books.

Also, I'll do my best to try and stick to canon for both worlds, but it's not a strict rule. ;)

Found some interior pictures of the 'Hoke House' that was used in the movie as the Cullen's home. (_Gorgeous_ house! If only I had the millions to pay Skylab Architecture to design me a similar one. *sigh*) The kitchen's custom island counter looked so _extended_, I certainly believe it's possible to toss Spock on top of it. ;D (Down ladies!)


	2. Not from Earth

**Vulcan Twilight: Chapter 02 - Not from Earth**

On their first day as freshmen and sophomores of Forks High School, the five Cullen 'children' were an instant hit. They rose in popularity to mystical proportions, ogled by every doe-eyed student and teacher alike, which they all took in stride but kept their distance. Throughout the day, Jasper constantly feared his composure would crack and Emmett had some fun at his expense, much to Alice's displeasure. Also, by the end of the day, Edward sighed as the comical predictability of the thoughts that surrounded them had lost their novelty.

On the Friday of their first week of school, Edward went to the administration office around 10 o'clock in the morning to grab a permission slip to leave early due to 'illness.' He was restless and decided that a good run through the woods was something he needed to do to clear his head.

He drove home at a leisurely pace, his limited edition silver Subaru Impreza WRX STI SE humming at peak condition after an added tune-up from Rosalie. Despite their monumental differences, they had found one thing in common: their mutual enjoyment of vehicles with carefully crafted high-performance engines. Rosalie's aptitude for all things mechanical and electrical never failed to surprise or delight him. It was why he trusted her to tinker with his collection of cars - an Aston Martin V12 Vanquish S and a McLaren F1 among them - and he took absolute pleasure doing the test drives.

About three miles away from their secluded home was when Edward heard the frantic, disjointed mental chatter between Carlisle and Esme.

Slamming his foot on the gas pedal, the Subaru Impreza screamed up the winding hill in record time toward the Cullen home driveway; Edward stunt-parking it and turning off the engine with inhuman speed. He then leapt up to the second floor balcony, nudging aside a glass sliding door that led him straight into the kitchen.

That's when he saw it...the _source_ of the strange, otherworldly scent that hung heavily in the air from a mile down the road.

"Carlisle! What the hell _is_ it?"

* * *

The trio carefully moved the creature's body off the kitchen island and onto the king-sized bed in the third floor guest room. They took a moment to clean and tidy the kitchen area, then burned the clothes they wore that were stained beyond repair with the creature's dark green blood.

"Remarkable," Dr. Cullen said in absolute wonder. "Given the area of the severe wound, I never thought to guess that what bled so much was the creature's _heart_."

Carlisle stood to the left of the bed (facing the headboard) with his arms crossed, his mind deep in thought, eyes filled with excitement. In all his three-hundred fifty years of traveling the world, he had never encountered such an intriguing mystery. One so _exceptional_ that it defied even his own existence!

"But it lost so much of its own blood...will it survive?" Esme asked with genuine concern. She returned from the kitchen with a cold pack in an attempt to keep the creature's fever down.

"Esme, don't..." Edward said softly as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She sat in a high-back leather chair to the right of the bed, positioned within arm's reach of their injured house-guest. "The heat...it's normal for...it..."

Carlisle glanced across the room to his 'eldest son' who was clearly still confused and shaken by what had happened earlier in the kitchen. He was a patient man even in the midst of such an exciting puzzle. "Is that what happened earlier? When it touched your arm...you read it's mind?"

"No. It was more like...how can I describe it? I wasn't even _trying_ to read it's mind at the time. When it touched me...it was more like a...a mental force-feeding."

Both Esme and Carlisle's faces were stunned at his choice of words.

"It totally scared me at first. I saw...I felt...too many things...all at once! Also, there was this incredible _urgency_. It was dying..." Edward said slowly, then stopped. A shadow of immense sadness gripped him, followed by deep pain. If he was capable of shedding tears, he'd be weeping uncontrollably. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and stumbled out of the room. "I need some air..."

Outside on the second floor balcony, Edward leaned his back against the thickly layered wooden railing and massaged his temples with his knuckles, taking a few long breaths to steady himself. The strong emotions of despair, sadness and pain he currently felt were _not_ his own. They belonged to the troubled alien mind that lay in a deep regenerative coma on the king-sized bed of their third floor guest room.

Hours later, the rest of Edward's 'siblings' returned home after school. The screeching sounds of two sets tires was a clear indication that they knew something wasn't quite right as all four of them flew through the front door.

"The fuck's that _smell_?" Emmett said out loud, looking in confusion at his fellow 'siblings' who were just as bothered by the scent's otherworldly quality.

"Whatever it is, I want it gone," Rosalie answered, placing a hand over her mouth and nose out of habit.

"It's coming from upstairs," Alice said, grabbing Jasper's hand as she flew up the steps in a blur.

They were greeted by Carlisle leaning against the doorjamb of the third floor guest room. Esme stood beside him, temporarily blocking the creature from view. In a rush, they all spoke at once.

"What the hell's in there?"

"Throw it _out!_ We don't know where it's been."

"May I see it? It smells so...weird."

"Does it speak?"

"I wasn't even sure it was going to live."

"We really don't know what to expect when it wakes up."

"Bullshit! It bleeds _green?_"

"Guys, guys, shut up!" Edward commanded sternly from inside the room, earning him a variety of expressions. "Carlisle, why don't you take the rest of the family downstairs and tell them what you know. Once we're calm, we can all stare at the thing to our heart's content."

As Carlisle ushered four confused faces down the corridor, Esme remained behind. She watched as her 'eldest son' fidgeted uncomfortably, periodically glancing at the unconscious figure that lay unmoving on the king-sized bed. She also noticed that extra blankets were now piled on top of their alien guest.

"He...prefers to be warmer," Edward answered slowly, gleaming the question from Esme's mind. "I get these flashes, hints, sometimes images...like I _know_ what he needs. Then it turns into a kind of compulsion or impulse...and it happens so _fast_. By the time I realize what's happening, I'm already moving...doing whatever he needs me to do." He ran his fingers through his thick mop of hair. "It's all so crazy and...a bit scary."

Esme placed reassuring hands on either side of his face. He smiled slightly, then closed his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead against hers for comfort. They stayed like this, savoring the cozy silence. It was moments like these why Edward was supremely grateful for the addition of Esme to their family. She was an incredibly loving, gentle and kindhearted individual: a truly ideal representation of a mother.

"_Ah!_" Edward yelped as he doubled over, his eyes tightly shut, hands gripping the sides of his head.

From downstairs, the rest of the family instantly crowded inside the guest bedroom, wondering what had caused Edward to cry out.

"Hold on...get back! Just...just gimme a minute!" Edward grated out. He then leapt onto the bed in a defensive crouch, hissing menacingly at anyone who came too close. "Back...off!"

"Emmett, Jasper, stay where you are," Carlisle demanded. He was as equally worried as the rest of them were. "Give Edward the space to work this out."

"That thing might be hurting him!" Jasper cried out. His instincts for combat were in full effect. Old habits were difficult to unlearn after years of being a conditioned soldier both in his human and vampire forms. The desire to protect what was most precious to him increased a hundredfold when he met Alice, but increased a thousandfold when he was welcomed warmly with open arms into the Cullen home. He'd grown to love his new family fiercely in the short time that he and Alice had stayed with them. (Oh, yes. Even Rosalie. xD)

_((It's okay. They won't hurt you. I won't let them.))_

As soon as Edward formed those words in his mind, the strong presence that besieged him gradually faded. He sat at the foot of the bed to compose himself.

"You alright?" Emmett asked, his brows knotted with concern. He repeatedly glanced between Edward and the unconscious _thing_ on the bed that now officially ranked Number One on his 'Things I Can't Wait to Kill' list. "What did it do to you?"

Alice's head was tilted unnaturally as she stared at the lump on the bed, enthralled by whatever had caught her attention.

"Would you mind explaining what just happened?" Rosalie said impatiently. It bothered her immensely that Edward had tried to protect the strange creature and took great offense at being hissed at in such a manner.

"I'm sorry...it was my fault. I triggered something...memories...painful ones. How the hell was I supposed to know..." Edward shrugged and shook his head in frustration. "He's...healing himself right now. It may take a few days. As soon as he wakes up - "

"I'm ripping its head off," Emmett growled out.

"Em, relax, I'm fine. Really," Edward sighed, staring solemnly at him.

"Healing himself?" Carlisle interjected.

"Yeah," Edward replied slowly. "He...seems to be able to do that. Complete control over his body using his mind, that sort of thing. Feel free to ask him questions when he wakes up. I'm getting this impression that he wouldn't mind."

The flash of boyish excitement on Carlisle's face was unmistakable. Edward stifled a smile when he saw the hordes of questions that flitted through his 'father's' mind. Several decades had passed since he'd seen Dr. Cullen in such a state and he rather liked it.

"Alice! _Don't__!_" Jasper said sharply, yanking her away from physically touching the thing with her hand. She seemed abnormally hypnotized by the way she stared and it worried him.

"It's so...beautiful..."

"Alice?" Jasper called again, this time in a more frantic tone. He forced her to look at him. "Talk to me, love, what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Alice answered dazedly, her eyes unfocused. "Something's wrong?" She gazed bewilderingly at her mate. "What's wrong?"

Alarmed, Jasper glanced menacingly at the thing that Carlisle and Edward had allowed into their home. Choosing not to voice his strong opinions just yet, he gently guided Alice away toward the privacy of their own bedroom.

"That was weird, even for Alice," Rosalie observed. "Which reinforces my previous point, we don't know _what_ we're dealing with. I'm sure Emmett and Jasper agree with me when I say, let's get rid of it."

"I'll take full responsibility for him," Edward announced, much to everyone's - especially Dr. Cullen's - surprised reaction.

"Edward, as much as I'd like to study and learn everything I possibly can from that...being...Esme and I rescued, we really have no idea what we're dealing with," Carlisle said.

"He means us no harm, I can vouch for that."

"Why? Coz that _thing_ telepathically told you so?" Emmett replied skeptically.

"In a way..."

"How can we be sure it's actually _you_ talking and not that _thing_ over there?"

"Em, we're not stuck inside an episode of the Outer Limits. He's not a body-snatcher, a goblin or an elf. That's just stupid," Edward chuckled.

"Fine. You seem to know _it_ so well. If it isn't an elf, a troll or a demon, then what the hell _is_ it?" Emmett challenged.

"I..." Edward hesitated. He much preferred that their unusual guest provided the explanations. "I think he's...extraterrestrial."

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Jasper and Emmett can't wait to kill their alien guest. (Poor Spock!) But can you blame them? Even if the Cullens are vampires, they're not invincible. And despite the fact that they don't consider themselves human anymore, they were all human once, and are still governed by their human personalities. (Unless you've lived as long as the _Volturi_. They're proof that living for countless millenia just makes you CREEPIER.)

Wonder what'll happen when Spock awakens? (Your guesses are as good as mine.)

I'd love to hear from my readers, so please don't hesitate to drop me a line.

Thanks to mwjen - my First Reviewer!

Take care, everyone!


	3. The Woman with Sad Eyes

**Vulcan Twilight: Chapter 03 - The Woman with Sad Eyes**

"Ya gotta be kidding me - a fucking _alien_? You're willing to protect the Predator till it wakes up," Emmett said in exasperation. "Well, thumbs up to you."

Edward rolled his eyes at his 'brother's' silly reference to a deadly fictional movie character that he found to be a gross exaggeration of the current situation. But could he really blame him? Despite his continual reassurances that their alien house-guest meant the family no harm, he had based this fact on a strong feeling of intuition from whatever telepathic connection he and the alien seemed to have established. And therein lay the root of the problem. How does a mind-reader like him explain his conclusions to a person who has never had the experience wielding his type of psychic ability?

"I don't like it. It smells weird. It'll get into our clothes and in our hair. Plus, I'd rather not be around if there's a chance that it _is_ the Predator," Rosalie stated, crossing her arms with a sour face. As a vampire, she didn't relish the idea of being torn to pieces, much less by some unknown creature.

"This is ridiculous. I can't believe you guys think he poses a threat we can't handle. We're not exactly human here," Edward laughed. "I'm sure Carlisle can help us shed some scientific light on the subject in question." He quirked an eyebrow. "Or better yet, when our guest wakes up, why don't we just _ask_ him."

"Based on what I've gathered so far, the creature's _not_ as fragile as the average human. When I stitched a few of its wounds shut, for example, the skin and muscle tissue was so _dense_, that it's comparable to a human trying to patch together fifteen pieces of upholstery leather with a needle and thread. Unless I can study it further with equipment I don't have, such as an x-ray or MRI, I can't draw any further comparisons. I'd also rather not move it in the comatose state its in," Carlisle explained.

"Edward's right."

Everyone turned expectantly toward Alice who stood at the guest room's threshold with a small, but cryptic smile. She looked past confused faces toward the unconscious creature that lay partially hidden under a thick pile of blankets.

"He won't hurt us. When he wakes up, he's gonna need our help."

* * *

Since there was nothing left to do but wait, the Cullens returned to their routine of emulating a typically normal (human) American family. The 'children' continued to attend Forks High School, Esme volunteered her time at the Forks Memorial Library, while Dr. Cullen was rapidly establishing an exemplary reputation working at the Forks Community Hospital.

"He's bound to be the senior resident doctor in record time," Head Nurse Dorothy Harmon whispered to her fellow colleagues and some of the nurses. "My husband tells me Dr. Cullen's credentials are off the scale. He even thought it was a prank at first, not that he's really complaining."

"I think we're _lucky_ to have him around," a fellow nurse commented.

"Which hospital did he come from again?"

"UCLA Medical Center in California," the Head Nurse replied. To her satisfaction, everyone around her reacted with open-mouths and gasps of admiration. "I did the same thing. I couldn't believe it either. So I did some digging. But after the third call, I gave up. I didn't want those other hospitals marching over here and stealing him back!"

"He should be a supermodel, not a doctor."

"Why's he so pale?"

"Have you seen his eyes? You'd think he was part lion."

"Yeah, and his hands...they're ice cold..."

"Dr. Cullen suffers from a very rare disease that gives his eyes that vivid hazel color. Also, his pale complexion in the sunlight causes a violent reaction equal to someone allergic to peanuts," Dorothy began.

"That's horrible," several nurses exclaimed, reacting in sympathy to what they were told.

"In addition," the Head Nurse continued, "the disease causes problems to his Pituitary gland, giving his body an abnormally low temperature. He stays healthy by being on a specialized diet and complex medication. He's had the disease since birth and he's dedicated his life trying to find a cure. Did you know that he married a woman with the same disease? His entire family's afflicted with it. Such a kind and generous soul, adopting children who's families couldn't afford to care for them anymore. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for him to get to this point in his life."

"Sssh! Here he comes."

"Morning, ladies," Dr. Cullen greeted with an easy smile, inwardly chuckling at how every female in the building that laid eyes on him hardly contained a blush. He addressed a young nurse to his right.

"Mary Anne, here's Elsie's chart. Tell Stephen it's all set."

The young brunette smiled widely and hurried off to do her task with bubbly excitement.

"Dorothy, the paperwork John requested," Dr. Cullen said, presenting the woman with a thick, expandable folder which she stared at in amazement.

"So _soon_? It wasn't an emergency, you didn't have to - "

"It's alright. Truth be told, I don't mind doing research or administration work, either. But don't go spreading that around, okay?" Dr. Cullen said with a radiant grin.

Head Nurse Harmon watched with an expression of awe plastered to her face as Dr. Cullen retreated down the corridor, his long, white work coat fluttering gently behind him.

"We hired Superman..." Dorothy expressed breathlessly, clutching the expandable folder she held in her arms with reverence.

Dorothy's best friend, Kathy Oakes, a physical therapist, sidled next to her and whispered mischievously in her ear, "I'd fly to Krypton with him _any_ day. I won't even pack!"

* * *

Several days had passed and the Cullens' strange guest remained unconscious in a comatose-like state, mostly unmoving, except for the occasional jerk of its eyes, and the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of its chest.

Carlisle gave their guest a quick physical checkup every so often, and remarked on how rapidly some of its bruises were fading, and the positive improvement to a few of its more serious injuries. The most notable feature of the alien's comatose state was its heart rate - which was beating at more than _triple_ the speed of an average human's when they first found it - had now _drastically_ reduced its speed to less than half that! He even debated whether or not he should attach their guest to an IV line, but did so anyway after Edward's prompting. His 'son's' bizarre mental connection to their strange guest was rather disturbing, and the rest of the family shared his trepidation, but like him, chose not to comment.

Being vampires, Carlisle was confident that his family could handle any form of physical attack should their alien guest prove hostile upon awakening. It was the possibility of a _psychic_ attack that had him worried. (His experiences with the Volturi were incidents he drew upon.) Edward's hypersensitivity to their strange guest was already a good example. With a simple grip of its wrist, the alien creature had somehow 'invaded' Edward's consciousness and was actively giving instructions - though Edward vehemently insisted that he was in no way _possessed_ by it.

Despite his misgivings, Dr. Cullen, ever the champion of the living, decided that until the creature proved to be an absolute threat, only then would he entertain thoughts of killing it.

* * *

The alien was dreaming. Or more accurately, having nightmares.

They began after first period.

Edward forced himself to concentrate in class while being bombarded with flurries of images and emotions. Some instances were manageable, but others, like the one he was having right now, made him grit his teeth and slump low in his chair, as he closed his eyes from the overwhelming disorientation. Luckily, for today's Math class, he sat at the very back row.

Projected against his eyelids was the face of a woman. She was beautiful, despite her age - he guessed maybe mid-to-late sixties - with gray streaks in her dark hair. Her hair was tightly wrapped in place with a scarf around her head, and she wore an oddly angular shaped dress that covered her entire body from neck to heel, and made from cloth woven in an intricate pattern of different neutral-colored thread. A necklace of flat, polished square stones that matched her dress hung at the base of her throat.

The woman's face held Edward's attention. It was filled with fear, then with great sadness...and finally, love. She was bathed in circling steams of white light, and all around her the world was crumbling.

And then she was falling...

What bothered Edward the most was the resignation in the unknown woman's soft brown eyes. It was a look he was entirely familiar with. They were the eyes that belonged to someone who knew, without a doubt, that they were about to _die_. The same look in the eyes of his victims before he claimed their blood.

"Are you alright, Mr. Cullen?" Barry Grisham, the math teacher, called out, concerned with the brief grimace of pain he saw on the student's face. He was told of the boy's special circumstances and was instructed to send him straight to administration if something was amiss. "Do you feel ill?"

Every student in the classroom immediately turned to Edward Cullen, who lurched to sit straight in his chair, and looked very uncomfortable now that he was the center of attention.

"Sorry...I just got a bit dizzy. I'm fine now," Edward replied with an uneasy smile, refusing to make eye contact with anything but the floor.

"If you're not feeling well you have my permission to go to the administration office."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to stay till the end of class. I promise I'll go straight to the office, right after."

Appearing satisfied by his answer, Mr. Grisham returned to his lecture. The minute he felt no one looking, Edward slowly slumped back down in his seat trying to ignore the tumult of anger and grief that had settled in his chest.

* * *

Since the day their alien guest had arrived, Edward repeatedly found Alice sitting alone in the guest room of their home after school, huddled in the leather high-back chair pushed close to the bed. Her head rested on her knees as she silently observed the unconsciousness alien creature.

"I can relate, y'know. What it feels like to wake up...having absolutely no clue where you are and what happened...not knowing where to go from there," Alice said softly. "I had no one to help me when I became a newborn. And, if it wasn't for my gift..." She left the rest to silence.

"Well, you _didn't_," Edward uttered with conviction, "and I'm glad you and Jasper are here with us." He squeezed her arm affectionately and sat himself beside her on the leather chair's armrest. That's when he noticed that her thoughts were suddenly fuzzy. Was she deliberately preventing him from reading her?

"I'm not showing you what I saw," Alice replied with a side-glance. "It's incomplete. Only _he_ can finish it." She hugged her knees closer and pouted. "I wish he'd wake up."

"Soon...I think," Edward answered slowly, his brows furrowed in concentration. "...there are things I have to do first before he does..."

"What was that?" Alice asked. He'd mumbled his last sentence absently and she wanted to clarify what she had heard. Things he had to _do_? What kinds of things? "Can I help?"

"Uh...sure. Soon as I figure out what they are..." Edward muttered, scratching his head.

* * *

It was a pleasant, breezy Saturday afternoon. He was listening to Miles Davis and skimming through his first edition of Anna Karenina, when Edward felt a push from the back of his mind.

He got up in a flash, dressed himself in rugged outerwear and went to find Alice. He had promised her that she could assist him with whatever the alien 'compelled' him to do.

Alice sat on Jasper's lap in the living room, the pair were laughing as they critiqued the fashion photography in one of Rosalie's copies of Vogue. As soon as she saw Edward materialize at the foot of the stairs, she and Jasper were beside him. He then tilted his head in her mate's direction, noting that the pair of them were similarly dressed in sturdy, outdoor clothing. Alice reacted with a shy smile and a small shrug. Sighing, Edward retrieved his jacket and the three of them headed swiftly on foot into the forests that surrounded their home.

"What are we looking for?" Jasper asked Edward. He ran beside Alice, the pair of them following their 'older brother' to an unknown location.

"I'll know when we get there," Edward answered as he ran full tilt through the trees, not even remotely out of breath.

After fifteen minutes of traveling in a northwesterly direction away from their home, Edward abruptly stopped beneath five Spruce trees of various heights. On the ground were branches and pieces of bark with roughened, jagged edges that suggested they had recently broken off. Moss had not yet formed on the lighter-colored areas of exposed wood.

"This is where he fell..." Alice stated quietly, marveling at the telltale signs on the trees themselves, her mind recreating the pace of the fall that miraculously failed to kill their alien guest.

"Fell from _where_?" Jasper declared in astonishment, looking up toward the mangled treetops. "If the alien somehow fell from the sky, he should be mincemeat."

"Far worse than that, he should've been _porridge_," Edward agreed, then started sifting through the debris on the forest floor. "We're looking for something...odd. You'll know the items when you see them."

The vampire trio carefully poked and prodded the area of forest floor, searching for anything out of place in the dirt and leaves.

"I found something!" Jasper said excitedly, and presented his companions with a 7x7 inch gray metallic box with smoothed edges. It was as heavy as a fifteen pound blue-ribbon watermelon and one side was etched with carvings: columns of lines decorated with beautiful swirls, notches and dots. When he tried to open the metal box, the lid startlingly didn't budge. "I might break it if I try to force it open. Is this it?"

"No, but we're hanging onto that anyway. Keep looking," Edward instructed.

After about ten minutes, Alice yelled out, and in her hands she held a Blackberry-sized device that was badly damaged, the lid fused shut.

"Good, but there's something else..."

"There's more?" Alice remarked in surprise when Edward resumed his search through the foliage. She winced when he started tossing away large rocks and uprooting tree stumps. "Um, maybe what you're looking for isn't on the ground?"

At her suggestion, Edward's frustrated face perked up, and he leapt toward the tallest of the five Spruce trees, climbing to the very top in less than a minute. From there, he jumped to another Spruce beside it like a squirrel, and after tearing away a few branches to pry something loose, climbed back down.

In his right hand, Edward held a belt woven from sturdy fibers with three holsters: the first one hid a small, cellphone-like device that chirped when the lid was flipped open; the second was empty, a perfect fit for the damaged gadget that Alice found; and the third, securely held what was shaped suspiciously like a futuristic firearm.

"This is the last of them," Edward said, and passed the belt over to Alice's curious mate, a seasoned soldier.

Jasper carefully removed the alien's weapon from the belt's holster and examined it. It was similar in weight to a modern handgun, admirably well-balanced, and despite the lack of a rubber or roughened grip, it felt comfortably secure in his hand. That about summed up the comparisons he could make between this weapon and what he knew of any pistol.

The most significant aberration to this alien handgun was the overall design. It was crafted almost entirely of a metal similar to polished chrome which was way too flashy, in Jasper's opinion, for any weapon. Two cylinders in the barrel were decorated with rings of red and blue, but the flow of its curved and angular planes aesthetically reduced it to a toy. A rectangular button just below the frame, incorporated into the upper front part of the grip, seemed to serve as the trigger, along with a small, round thumb-button just above it. There appeared to be no place to insert a magazine for ammunition. There was also a slider on the frame that clicked left to right, which activated and deactivated a small arc of lights like a small gauge. Was it a kind of safety lever? Or was the safety, instead, the small round thumb-button?

There was only one way to know for sure.

Edward and Alice watched as Jasper tested the feel of the weapon in his hand. He adjusted the slider to the far left - one green node lit - took a firm stance, targeted a nearby boulder and with both hands wrapped around the smooth grip, gently pressed the trigger.

An impressive projectile of bright blue light erupted from the weapon's barrel and struck the boulder instantly, their vampiric vision catching a faint blue afterglow that briefly enveloped it.

"That was totally Sci-fi," Edward responded in awe.

The trio exchanged looks of stunned excitement before Jasper resumed his experimentation. That single demonstration of the weapon alone confirmed their guest's extraterrestrial authenticity.

"I'm gonna try one more thing," Jasper said and pushed the slider on the weapon to the far right, illuminating the entire gauge of tiny green lights with the exception of the fifth node which was colored red. (His experienced intuition cautioned him to avoid anything too drastic for the moment.) He then pressed the small, round thumb-button on the grip, which unexpectedly flipped the decorated cylinders in the barrel from a blue to a red tip.

_This should be interesting_, Jasper thought to himself, earning an eager glance from Edward.

The three of them weren't disappointed.

This time, when Jasper gently pressed the trigger, a menacing bright red projectile of light erupted from the weapon's barrel, instantly _disintegrating_ the targeted boulder to nothing but a dusty haze.

"Holy shit!"

Both Edward and Jasper were in shock, with Alice just as flabbergasted beside them, a hand covering her open mouth.

"Yup, playtime's over," Jasper announced. He flipped the weapon's tip back to blue, returned the slider on the frame to the far left and carefully secured the ray gun back into its belt holster.

"Think we should hide that from Emmett?" Edward said with a conspiratorial grin.

"Absolutely. Best to let the alien show us how to safely use it first," Jasper chuckled back. "Knowing Emmett, he'll be tempted to level the forest just for fun."

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I present to my readers the photos that started this insanity! (Just go to my ffnet profile and click on the direct link under 'Story Picture Scrapbooks') Most significant is 'Scruffy Spock' - the single pic that spawned this crazy joyride of a fic. ^_^ Enjoy!

Mwjen - I'm just as interested to see how Spock handles the predicament he'll soon find himself in. Being in the company of mythical vampires living on 21st Century Earth in a possibly different dimension...that's kind of a _lot_ to take in. LOL


	4. Awakening

** Vulcan Twilight: Chapter 04 - Awakening**

There was no Time.

There was no Sensation.

Only Consciousness adrift in the Ether.

This is what Death was like?

If this was death...why was he...

Unconvinced?

That was the precise moment he heard muffled voices.

Several male, several female.

Wait...

He was dead. The dead did _not_ hear muffled voices...

Spock awoke with a soft gasp as his eyelids fluttered briefly, his vision slowly focusing inside the dimly lit room, the condition of his injured body hitting him with the maximum force of a phaser blast.

Ow. Everything _hurt _but the painful sensations gave Spock, in burning detail, an acute awareness of the presence of his organs and limbs, all thankfully accounted for and intact. Also, his throat was uncomfortably dry and his mouth pasty from disuse.

Now, he knew for certain that he was definitely _not_ dead.

But...how?

He had set his ship on a collision coarse with the Narada. There was a _zero_ probability of survival, and yet...he was _alive_.

Had he failed or was there an unknown factor that untimely intervened? Perhaps an unaccounted variable had occurred during collision as a result of the futuristic technology contained in both his Vulcan craft and the Romulan warbird?

These and many other questions plagued his mind, but there was no way he could answer any of them if he remained immobile on whatever surface he was laid on.

He began by examining the room with his eyes and slight turns of his head. It was all he could manage, for the moment, weak as he was from hunger and his injuries.

Spock's first reaction: the decor and construction of the room did _not_ conform to either Vulcan or Federation Medical Bay standards. The room's overall architecture matched the interior of a _home_ rather than that of an institution or the section of a starship. All four walls, including the ceiling, were soft white, except for the area directly above him - part of his bed? - which was covered with staggered, similarly-shaped rectangles, each cut showing varied patterns in the wood grain for a deliberate aesthetic quality. Heavy drapes lined the wall to his right, and judging by the rays of sunshine peeking through the fabric, it served to cover a large window. There was a long table at the foot of his bed against the wall, and on top of it, fresh yellow flora - tulips? - were placed inside a transparent receptacle - a crystal vase? - filled with liquid. Just above it was a large square image - an abstract painting? - of haphazard shapes in primary colors. To his left was a sort of chair with a high backrest and large arm rests made from cured animal hide, dyed black. A tall shelving unit bolted to the wall on his left was filled with objects and...books. Books that were bound in a manner similar to those found on ancient Earth. He squinted, trying to read the titles on the books from where he lay, but they were far enough away that the type was too small for even his superior eyesight.

Was this room some sort of elaborate ruse? Perhaps he was in a Romulan prison cell? He needed more information to refute the possibility. His limited movement prevented that, however.

Also, if he was inside a Romulan prison, he highly doubted that they would see to his every comfort if he was injured, since the bed provided was soft and clean, the room pleasantly dim, his wounds medicated and dressed. The many thick blankets piled on top of him served to increase his overall temperature, aiding his body's regenerative properties. It was also a temperature he would normally experience if he stood on the surface of Vulcan.

Vulcan...

His home planet that no longer existed...because of the actions of a mentally unstable _future_ Romulan. More than six billion lives...gone in the blink of an eye.

Spock closed his eyes and waited for the overwhelming heaviness in his chest to subside. He would have time to mourn, as soon as he ascertained where he was, how he came to be here, and if he was imprisoned, how he could escape.

A soft tapping noise came from the direction of...a door? It was a very primitively designed entrance to a room - where one had to manually turn a mechanism in order to open it - as demonstrated by the the tall, humanoid male that made his appearance. Make that two.

Spock watched warily as the two humanoid males approached the bed were he lay, the slightly older blonde coming closer, while the younger brunette with tousled hair, hung back. Both males had complexions much too pale to be humans from Earth and the sharp, amber pigmentation of their eyes was very unnatural for their overall features.

"Y'know, I just realized something. Does our guest even speak English?" the older blonde stated, looking chagrined, turning to look at his younger companion.

"Shit," the brunette muttered. "I totally forgot about that."

"I highly doubt sign language would help, either. Centuries of study...and I have literally no idea how to initiate first contact with an alien," the older blonde chuckled.

"They don't exactly include Extraterrestrial studies in the M.I.T. or Harvard curriculum," the brunette grinned, scratching his head. "What do we do now?"

"You can't tell if he understands us?"

The brunette glanced over and stared directly at Spock with concentration.

"Nope. I'm drawing a blank. Like he's...blocking me somehow. It's weird," the brunette replied. "I guess, now that he's awake...he has conscious control over the thoughts he sends me. I can't...read him anymore."

Although Spock was uncertain of the species the two male humanoids belonged to, he understood them _perfectly_ since they spoke the Federation common tongue. How... fortuitous, especially since he was no longer in possession of his away-mission utility belt where his tricorder was incorporated with a Universal translator. He needed to find a way to acquire another utility belt for himself, among other supplies.

That and other priorities were pushed back in his mind to focus on a more pressing problem: the younger brunette possessed a form of _telepathy_. Spock had made the correct decision of channeling whatever little strength he had left into protecting his mind. However, what the younger male had said gave him pause since it suggested something too..._disturbing_ to contemplate.

"It's all right," the older man said and held his palms up in front of Spock in full view. "I was only going to check your I.V. line." He pointed to something with his fingers.

Spock saw a thin, translucent tube that led to a pole where a bag half-filled with fluid hung from a hooked protrusion. He then reversed direction and followed the tube to find it...attached to his arm.

This was not good. Although Spock sensed no immediate danger in whatever chemicals they were giving him, did not mean it was safe to assume he wasn't being drugged. At this point, he had no knowledge of the length of time he was unconscious or knew the exact moment they began administration of the unknown compound into his system. A part of him feared the adverse effects. Had these humanoids been slowly poisoning him? Or worse yet, seeking control over his mind?

_Who_ were these beings, and _where_ in the galaxy was he?

"If you can't read his thoughts, Edward, perhaps Jasper..." the older blonde suggested.

The brunette named Edward, reacted to the older male's statement with a few expletives he had heard before, used during his time as a Cadet in his four years attending Starfleet Academy in San Francisco on Earth. Edward then promptly left the room, presumably to retrieve this 'Jasper.'

"Well, you're finally awake and you seem coherent, at least. I just wish we could understand each other. There are so many questions I want to ask you," the older blonde said to Spock, looking directly at him in a manner that appeared and sounded _sincere_.

To answer the man's question, Spock _did_ understand him, every word he and his companion, Edward, had spoken. He also noted that the older blonde's behavior conveyed an amiable quality. Perhaps his feigned ignorance of their language might provide some answers? He was willing to test that theory.

Another humanoid male strolled into the room. This one looked slightly older than the male named Edward and with blond, wavy hair. Most likely, the one called Jasper.

Spock watched as Jasper cautiously took a few steps forward, stopping just behind the leather high-back chair by his bedside. The male stared at him with a blank expression but with an underlying alertness.

"I'm getting...something but it's faint. Almost as if..." Jasper trailed off, his brow furrowing.

The new arrival, Jasper, was an _empath._ In his weakened state, with his concentration fully occupied on shielding his mind, Spock wondered if he had adequate reserves to spare toward _total_ emotional suppression. He would find out soon enough.

"He's suppressing his emotions," Edward finished.

"Yeah...but not deliberately, not forcefully. His emotions feel more...disciplined," Jasper added, as he tried to explain what his empathic senses detected. "It's actually kinda neat."

"Well, that's a start. He might be able to answer simple yes or no questions," the older male said. "I hope."

Edward shrugged. "Let's give it a shot. Who wants to go first?"

The three males exchanged rapid glances. Soon, the older male turned away, slowly neared the bed, stopping short of the leather chair.

"I'd like to take a seat next to you, if you don't mind," the older man said.

"Uh, Carlisle, what happened to _simple_?" Edward smiled. Jasper chuckled.

Sighing, the older male called Carlisle gave his younger companions a reproachful look, then turned to gracefully sit in the large, leather chair.

Spock swallowed reflexively. Carlisle, who belonged to a humanoid species of unknown origin, now sat a mere two feet away from him. In his current condition, he was physically helpless to defend himself should the need arise.

"He's...nervous," Jasper said as the alien looked sharply at him. "Whoa. He really doesn't like the fact that I'm reading him."

"Guess I'd hate it too, if I were him," Edward replied, leaning against the leather chair's backrest with his head on his forearms. "At least we're getting somewhere. Can you set him at ease?"

Again, the one named Jasper stared in concentration, then slowly shook his head.

"No effect," Jasper answered.

Spock made a mental note: the one named Jasper was no ordinary empath.

"Wait..." Carlisle said slowly, gazing steadily into the alien's eyes. "We mean you no harm. I'm Carlisle. I'm a doctor. These are my sons, Edward and Jasper. You're in our home. My wife and I found you unconscious and severely injured in the forest a few days ago. You lost a lot of blood. Frankly, we thought you were going to die."

Edward quickly placed a hand on Jasper's shoulder to stop him from commenting. He knew Carlisle was using the timbre of his voice in an attempt to calm the nervous alien.

The three of them watched the alien's eyes bouncing rapidly from one face to another. His severely angled eyebrows moving closer, ever so minutely.

Spock was starting to get dizzy. His body badly needed to ingest fresh food and water, but the only way to get the sustenance he craved was to communicate his requirements clearly and precisely to his indefinable hosts in a language they could understand. He would have to be the one to initiate first contact.

Mustering his remaining strength, Spock spoke loudly and as confidently as he could manage with a dry throat.

"Why have I been brought here?"

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

My eternal gratitude to the Twilight Lexicon website and S.M.'s The Official Illustrated Guide for my Cullen character needs, and to both my Star Trek 2009 websites, Memory Alpha and Star Trek Online Geekipedia, for my Vulcan character info. (Without these websites, I'd be lost!) :3

Obscure Stranger - Heh. I'm glad you like it. Thanks for the support! (meh appreciates it greatly)

Sorry, if this chapter's too short. I wanted Spock's monumental awakening to stand by itself.


	5. Questions and Answers

**Vulcan Twilight: Chapter 05 - Questions and Answers**

Spock was not prone to hallucinations, but perhaps, the escalating dizziness now affected his vision.

He had just witnessed the three humanoid males in his room move in a manner so _fast_, that even to his Vulcan eyesight, they seemed almost a blur! Moreover, all three males gawked at him with varying degrees of absolute _shock_.

Why? They had shown frustration of his feigned ignorance in understanding their language and they had expressed the desire to communicate with him several times. Now that he had spoken, in their native tongue no less, they should have reacted more _positively_. Instead, they showed disbelief and even a little fear.

It was most perplexing.

Glancing toward the doorway, Spock saw the arrival of other humanoids: three females and one robustly built male. All of them possessed similar physical traits of anemically pale skin and vividly amber eye pigmentation.

"It - He...speaks _English__!_" Jasper blurted out; eyes so wide they felt like popping out of his head.

"Yeah? No shit," Edward replied, gaping at the alien.

"Incredible," Carlisle murmured with a boyish smile.

"Fucking told you so," Emmett said triumphantly. He stared directly at Edward, who he argued with earlier, and he'd vehemently insisted that they were somehow stuck in an episode of the Outer Limits, or in this case, the X-files. He was also immensely relieved that the alien they'd brought in hadn't transformed into a Predator. Sort of. Because even if it did, he'd have just as much fun trying to rip it to pieces.

Edward gaped at Emmett like he'd grown a second head. Then again, Emmett would've probably liked that. It gave him a raging headache whenever he attempted to analyze how his brawny 'brother's' mind worked. Trust Rosalie to pick a premium specimen from the male population as the perfect mate, he thought sardonically, rolling his eyes.

"Would you like some water?" a woman offered, who stood next to the alien's bed with a glass in her hand.

Spock was so preoccupied with observing the humanoids' interaction on the left side of the room, he failed to register anyone standing to his right and was dangerously caught by surprise. On a side note, how had the woman known he was thirsty? Was she telepathic like the humanoid named Edward?

"It must've been hard to say what you did with such a dry throat," the woman said kindly and inched a little closer.

Clearing his own throat, Carlisle strode forward to stand by the leather chair to the alien's left. "My name is Carlisle Cullen. Behind me are my children. These are my sons, Edward, Emmett and Jasper, and my daughters, Alice and Rosalie. The beautiful woman to your right is my wife, Esme."

The kind and gentle manner the humanoid female named Esme exhibited brought a painful twinge of sadness to Spock. The woman reminded him too much of the mother he'd only recently lost. Worst of all, he felt his composure slipping. The mounting dizziness from his physical injuries and dietary needs mercilessly combined with the emotional turmoil he was experiencing from the memory of his mother's death and the loss of his home planet. It was almost too much to bare! He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, forcing himself not to crumple in distress.

"Now that we know you can understand us, will you allow us to help you? You're obviously in pain and we mean you no harm," Carlisle coaxed.

Opening his eyes, Spock turned to look at Carlisle and slowly nodded once. At this point, in his weakened condition, he had no other choice but to yield to their ministrations. At least, as long as he remained conscious, he could further observe them.

Different things happened all at once. Before Spock knew it, he was being carefully shifted to an almost sitting position against a massive pile of pillows stacked behind him for support. In his near upright state, the wave of dizziness crashed over him like a tidal wave, forcing Spock to again shut his eyes, the room spinning like a top with him as the axis. He slumped back, sinking his full weight into the pillows.

"Here, drink this," Esme encouraged softly, guiding the glass into the alien's hands. She watched as he placed the glass to his lips, took a tentative sip, then eagerly drank every drop.

Gratefully, the water was clean. Spock detected no unusual substances in the distilled liquid. Now that his throat no longer felt like an arid desert, he could better communicate with his mysterious hosts. He was also pleased to note that despite the absence of his uniform, they had given him a simple pair of loose-fitting, soft, gray pants made of a light, porous - cotton? - fabric. He was grateful, at least, that he wasn't entirely naked.

"Would you like something to eat?" Esme continued.

"That...would be most...appreciated," Spock replied, his voice still a bit hoarse. In addition, he wished the room would stop spinning. It was irritatingly distracting.

Carlisle was relieved that their alien patient was responding more agreeably to their care, knowing it must have been difficult to do so. Waking up in a totally unfamiliar place, greeted by totally unfamiliar people would be a terrifying experience for anybody. He then glanced at Alice who snuggled in the tight embrace of her mate, Jasper, and he felt a pang of sadness knowing how this situation closely mirrored her own past.

"What the hell _does_ it eat," Emmett commented, receiving a snicker from Rosalie and annoyed glances from the others. "What? It's a perfectly good question."

Spock agreed. Having no idea where he was in the galaxy, he wondered what kind of food they could provide him with. Therefore, best dispense with the major questions first.

"Would you like another drink?" Esme asked again rather unexpectedly, already reaching toward him with another glass of water.

His slanted eyebrows rose up perceptively. Nevertheless, Spock accepted his second drink of water and emptied the glass.

"Geez, mom, don't the drown the guy," Edward chuckled, effectively easing the tension in the room.

"Well, now that you'll be eating and drinking, you won't be needing this anymore," Carlisle said, pointing to the translucent tube attached to the alien's arm. "May I?" When the alien nodded, he swiftly removed the I.V. needle, wrapping the excess length of tube around the pole.

"If I may inquire...in which part of the galaxy are we located?" Spock asked, and noted the mixed reactions from the humanoids present.

"Uh...east of the sun, west of the Milky Way?" Emmett answered, snickering along with Rosalie. The two were amusing themselves at the alien's expense.

"You're on Earth," Edward said plainly, glaring at Emmett and Rosalie, still giggling and whispering to each other.

"Earth?" Spock said with a look of subtle bewilderment on his face. It was a reply he had not expected. "Earth...in the Alpha Quadrant?" _Impossible! He had led the Narada...the Enterprise...they were parsecs away from the Sol System!_

The Cullen family all exchanged dubious glances, some of them mouthing the words 'Alpha Quadrant.' To Emmett and Rosalie, it sounded like hilarious sci-fi mumbo-jumbo.

"Yup. Good 'ole planet Earth. Third blue-green ball of dirt orbiting in a solar system of nine or eight planets - stupid scientists can't figure out how many - floating somewhere within a slowly expanding swirly galaxy named after a chocolate bar," Emmett stated with a grin, the couple dissolving into fits of laughter. "That sound about right?"

Carlisle quickly grabbed Edward's arm to prevent him from tearing into the snickering couple. Though the rest of them strongly disapproved of Emmett and Rosalie's embarrassing conduct, now was not the time or place for violent reprimands. Their first responsibility was to ensure that they earned their alien guest's trust while he stayed under their care and protection.

"I apologize for my _children's_ behavior if they've offended you," Carlisle said regrettably.

"None taken," Spock answered and paused a moment before he added, "I am confused. If we are indeed on Earth, as you claim, why do none of you exhibit the standard characteristics of the humans that inhabit this world?"

The room was abruptly silent as all the Cullens froze in place.

Again, their collective reactions were mystifying to Spock. Why had that simple question filled the room with such suffocating tension?

"Carlisle, I shall speak directly to you since you are clearly the figure of authority in your family," Spock stated. The man then briefly glanced around him and hastily took a seat on the leather chair by his bedside. "I find myself baffled by you and your family's reactions to my simple questions." Before the man could answer, he held up his hand. "Before we begin, please, permit me if I may, to conduct the interrogation. I am, after all, the outsider here."

With a another glance from Carlisle, the rest of his family shuffled to different parts of the room, giving their patriarch some space as they settled down to listen, some pairing off with their respective siblings. To Spock's left, Edward stood leaning against the tall leather chair where his father sat. Esme remained on the right side of his bed, seated comfortably on a leather chair that matched Carlisle's, which had somehow materialized inside the room. Jasper sat leaning against the wall on the sturdy end table at the foot of his bed tightly embracing Alice - a young female brunette with short, spiky hair - as she curled herself snugly between his legs. And lastly, the robust male Emmett, grinning broadly with anticipation, sat cross-legged on a wide footstool cradling an amused female with long blonde hair, Rosalie, in his lap. Evidently, his benign hosts seemed eager to cooperate.

For now, Spock's overwhelming curiosity outweighed the needs of his body, quelling the aches and pains to a tolerable level. He then wondered how many questions he would receive satisfying answers to, so Spock began with something easy.

"Where precisely on Earth are we stationed?"

"The town of Forks, Washington State, in the country of the United States of America on the North American Continent," Carlisle answered.

Spock was familiar with the geographical location of Washington State on the North American continent. This meant he wasn't far from Starfleet Headquarters located in San Francisco, California. Then why was he _here_, when Starfleet's renowned Planetary Defense Grid would have easily detected his arrival in any form, whether he crash-landed or was transported or even telaported to the planet's surface. He would have left an anomalous energy signature...unless, some kind of cloaking device had been used. Was he secretly being sequestered here?

"Is Forks a civilian compound?" was Spock's next question.

"If you mean nonmilitary, then yes, the town of Forks is mainly populated by civilians," was Carlisle's best answer.

The circumstances surrounding his arrival here were rapidly becoming incomprehensible. Also, his sensitive Vulcan hearing distinguished no trace of treachery in the cadence of Carlisle's voice. In fact, no one in the room had spoken in a remotely deceptive fashion.

"You and your wife found me severely injured nearby?"

"Yes. My wife and I were exploring the forests around our home when we found you. Frankly, we didn't know what to think. You literally popped out of nowhere, crashing into a group of trees and breaking several branches before you hit the ground. We expected to find you mashed to a bloody pulp from the height you fell from, instead, you were _intact_ and _breathing_. Esme and I then carefully transported you back here to our home where I quickly began treating your wounds. I removed all the debris I could find, mostly chunks of wood and these metallic fragments." Reaching into his pant pocket, Carlisle pulled out a small, white bundle.

Edward watched as Carlisle passed it to the alien who carefully unwrapped the neatly folded handkerchief on his lap, revealing a few sharp slivers still caked with green blood. For now, the part about his own bizarre involvement in saving the alien's life was edited out, since it wasn't Carlisle's story to tell.

Spock stared at one of the larger slivers of metal he held between his fingertips. He would have it immediately analyzed once he returned to Starfleet. He then securely re-bundled the slivers in the piece of fabric on his lap.

"You are this community's elected physician?" Spock continued.

"Well, I wasn't elected. I applied for a position at the local hospital, went for an interview and because of my credentials, I got accepted. My family and I only recently moved here to Washington state from Los Angeles, California."

Los Angeles? There was no such city in the state of California...unless... "How long have you and your family lived here?" Spock marched on, determined to unravel the convoluted snippets of information.

"Less than a year. We found you in the woods thirty weeks after we moved here. You were in a comatose-like state for two more."

"Why was I not taken to the local medical facility for treatment?" Spock said.

"There wasn't time. You were literally bleeding to death. It was my decision to bring you here. I had the necessary medical supplies and equipment to help you."

_Medical supplies and equipment in a civilian home? A laboratory? Have I become the subject of biological experimentation? _Spock felt his heart starting to race. "Then, as the respected community physician, why have you not informed the local authorities of my presence here?" _Thereby allowing Starfleet to find me._ Even to his own ears, his voice sounded slightly agitated.

"Because...that would've been very dangerous for you," Carlisle said calmly.

Spock was taken aback by this. Looking around the room, every member of the Cullen family - excluding the amused Emmett and Rosalie - agreed with what Carlisle had said. _Dangerous? For me? Why? If I'm on Earth, what would be the danger? _The stubbornly recurring word 'unless' increasingly troubled him. This word, compounded by Carlisle's continued sincerity, inevitably propelled him toward a theory he was reluctant to consider. 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth.' It was a quote he favored the moment he had read the it in a book a fellow first year cadet had lent him. Ironically, the quote applied to _him_ now more than ever before! So, he decided, in the interest of totally discounting a particularly disturbing realm of thought, Spock asked breathily with just the barest trace of discernible desperation, "What...is today's stardate?"

"Star-date?" Carlisle said, unsure how to respond. "I don't know the 'star-date', but I can tell you today's Gregorian calendar date, which is September 29, 2005."

It was Spock's turn to freeze in place. He stared at Carlisle in expanding horror as the oppressive magnitude of his condition gradually sank in.

There was a strangled gasp from somewhere in the room. In his attempt to decipher the alien's intentions, Jasper was caught unprepared for the colossal impact of the alien's emotions when he briefly slipped through its mental barriers.

"Jasper?" Alice said worriedly. She stood facing him with her hands on either side of his face as he sat paralyzed, his eyes eerily fixated on their alien guest.

"That _thing's_ got Jasper this time!" Emmett shouted angrily as he surged forward, slamming into Edward who tried to restrain him along with Carlisle. Esme now stood in front of the alien, shielding him from view.

By Spock's calculation, the elapsed time between the instant Emmett shouted to the point where Esme now stood before him occurred in exactly a _millisecond_. The Cullens have now, more than once, demonstrated speeds of movement totally _unachievable_ by Terrans from Earth!

"Carlisle, I demand to know _who_ you are and _why_ I've been imprisoned here," Spock declared in a loud voice.

"You're not our prisoner, you stupid Martian! We've been telling you the truth!"

"Emmett!" Carlisle said angrily. "Either behave yourself or leave this room: Choose!" Emmett wisely chose to back off. He then turned to address their distraught alien guest. "We are who we claim to be. This is my family, you're in our home, and we mean you no harm."

Spock felt his anger building. He needed definitive _answers_, not statements that led to more questions! Under normal circumstances, he was much more calm and collected...but these were _hardly_ normal circumstances. So far, what he'd learned currently implied, that aside from his miraculous resurrection from death, he was somehow thrust centuries into the past, on a planet that may or may not be Earth, in the company of Terrans that were definitely _not_ Human!

"Though you speak the truth and act sincere, the conflicting evidence I've gathered, so far, suggests otherwise," Spock argued.

"What evidence?" Edward replied, taking over the conversation for Carlisle who had stepped aside looking frustrated.

"Let me begin with the obvious: you and your family are _not_ Humans," Spock asserted.

"No...not anymore. But we _were_," Edward admitted, then scowled, appearing to speak wordlessly to every member of his family. He gazed sternly at the outraged faces around him, fairly sure that the Volturi edict of absolute secrecy _didn't_ apply to aliens! "I know what I'm doing."

Spock's aches and pains grew increasingly aggravated by his soaring stress levels as Edward's reply further confounded him. What in Surak's name did Edward mean by saying that they '_were'_ Human?

"Then tell me, Edward, if you used to be Human, what are you _now_?" Spock asked, slightly pursing his lips in annoyance.

"Alright, since you seem to know so much about Humans...the reason my family and I look the way we do is the fact that we're _vampires_," Edward said casually with a smile, crossing his arms.

"Vampires?" Spock repeated as he took a moment to seek the definition in his mind. When he found it, he jerked his head up sharply, his brows crunching together in consternation. "Myth! Vampires do not exist."

Suddenly, the room erupted into peals of laughter as all trace of the suffocating tension vanished from every Cullen present.

"That thing's a fucking riot!" Emmett guffawed. "I changed my mind, let's keep 'im!" He was laughing so much that he toppled to the ground.

One slanted eyebrow rose considerably up Spock's forehead and remained there. He was unable to grasp the humor in what he'd just stated.

Carlisle was the first Cullen to surface from their collective fit of unrestrained hysteria. Grinning, he approached the bed, leaning against the high-back leather chair. "Again, I apologize for the inexcusable behavior of myself and my family," he said, still smiling broadly. "It's just that...you're the first living being to ever say 'You do not exist' straight to our faces like that...and with such _conviction_." His last few words sent Emmett and a few others into another round of guffaws.

"Let me propose this," Edward began, and everyone in the entire room had his undivided attention. "Is there _any _way to completely convince you that we're telling you the truth." He already knew the answer to his own question and hoped that the alien would choose the same course of action. He was equally curious about their guest's extraterrestrial origins, willing to gamble that his idea went both ways.

Spock hesitated. For him to gain the absolute truth, only _one_ alternative remained. That meant he would have to perform a mind-meld on one of his unknown hosts, a method that also provided many risks for both sides. However...it was the most effective technique he had available to extinguish any shred of doubt.

"Very well," Spock said softly. "I know of a way..." When he tried shifting slightly, he winced. His internal organs were still tender and required several more days of healing.

"Here," Esme said, quickly coming to the alien's assistance and effortlessly moving him to a more comfortable position with one arm.

Seeing this, Spock mentally added physical strength to the Cullen's growing list of unusual traits. "Thank you." She smiled in reply. Now that he was settled, he proceeded to explain his 'way.'

"Among the integral characteristics of my Vulcan species is the ability of touch-telepathy, particularly, what we call a Mind-meld. Training to manage this ability begins at a very young age. And, though I am not inexperienced, I have yet to achieve mastery of it."

"Then, it's safe to say, as far as skill level, you're an intermediate?" Edward interjected, which he guessed probably placed him at about the same standard.

"That is a fair appraisal, yes," Spock replied. "I presume, since you are the resident telepath, you will volunteer for this procedure?"

"I will," Edward said without hesitation, amid the murmur of his family's protests both mental and audible. "Tell me what I have to do."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," Esme spoke up surprisingly as they all stared at her in confusion. "Are you sure you wouldn't like something to...um..._eat_ first?" If her ears hadn't deceived her, she may have just spared the alien some embarrassment.

"As...a matter of fact...I would very much appreciate something to eat," Spock admitted. Again, he wondered if Esme was telepathic. He'd been actively suppressing his body's needs in his pursuit of determining the mystery of how he'd arrived, that his hunger had gotten to the point where he would've had to devise a way to discreetly ask for nourishment before he and Edward began the mind-meld. Gratefully, Esme had spared him from having to do so. "And...Esme, you may call me Spock."

As a precaution, Esme and Alice did a wide variety of shopping, stocking up their kitchen pantries with all sorts of food items during the two weeks they waited for their alien guest to awaken. Imagine their delighted amusement when they learned that Spock's Vulcan race was primarily vegetarian!

"Crazy coincidence, isn't it?" Alice beamed at Esme, zipping around the kitchen and supplying whoever with whatever they needed to prepare the meal. If she'd already known the fact that Spock was vegetarian, she gave no indication.

"I know," Esme said happily, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. "It's almost like...I don't dare say it." She tossed a few more vegetables into the stir-fry Emmett flung expertly into the air from a wok with flicks of his wrist._  
_

"Ssspauuwkk...Ssspock..." Emmett muttered to himself, adding a few spices to the dish he was mixing. "What the fuck kinda alien name is _Spock,_ anyway? Spock sports short socks sparingly in space. Sporks spark Spock's suspicion with surprising success. Y'know, Spock totally rhymes with - "

"Zucchini," Esme chimed in. "We need more zucchini."

"Edward, are you sure it's wise volunteering yourself like this?" Carlisle asked worriedly, remembering his 'son's' frightening experience in the kitchen when he and Esme first brought in the alien.

"Well, I'm the resident mind-reader which gives me an idea of what to expect. He realizes this, which is why I knew he'd agree to my proposal," Edward replied and noticed Jasper's apprehensive gaze. "Hey, Jaz, you sure you're alright?"

"I was caught off-guard," Jasper responded, masking the unease of his own unique connection with the alien's psyche. He watched Alice cheerfully zipping around like a hummingbird in a garden from where he stood, one side of his body propped against a small support wall on the hardwood floor a step above the main kitchen area. Edward was leaning against the extended stone counter-top of the custom island, two steps down, away from the hubbub of activity, absently watching as Emmett tossed stir fry up into the air at a height no human chef could manage.

Carlisle was cutting and arranging a selection of fresh fruit on an ornately decorated silver serving tray. Their guest hadn't specified a quantity, so he guessed that Spock might need a double helping of food based on his approximate height and weight and the severity of his injuries. In this instance, he used Edward for comparison since his height and build closely matched that of their alien guest.

Upstairs on the third floor, Spock took the opportunity to meditate while the Cullens were away and concentrated on healing the heavily damaged areas of his body. After about fifteen minutes, the Cullens returned upstairs and presented two trays filled with food.

Scanning the trays, Spock recognized most of the fruits and vegetables the Cullens used to prepare his meal.

"I hope you don't have food allergies," Carlisle remarked.

"There is no need for concern. My unique physiology allows me to quickly adapt to food grown on Earth," Spock answered.

"Here's a pitcher of water, room temperature," Esme said, smiling, placing a glass and a pitcher on a small table by his bedside. "If there's anything else you need, just ask. We'll be right outside."

"Thank you, Esme, everyone," Spock said, looking sincerely at each individual present. "I am indebted to you all for your hospitality."

"You're welcome, and the whole 'in debt' thing's irrelevant," Edward said and smiled. He and his family slowly filed out of the room to give their guest some privacy while he ate. Being the last one out the door, he caught Spock peeling a banana with his knife and fork.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

In 2047 (following the Star Trek universe timeline) the 'Hermosa Earthquake' caused the L.A. region to sink under 200 meters of water, creating one of the planet's largest coral reefs, home to thousands of marine species.

All the food Esme and Alice bought were from the best organic local farmers' markets and small businesses in the area. Their vampire senses can't stand all the generically grown, chemically and hormonally altered crap we normally eat.

The book was titled, 'The Sign of the Four', a series of fictional novels centered on the main character, a detective named Sherlock Holmes, written by the literary author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. (Spock found Sherlock Holmes intriguing in his exploits, using his impressive analytical skills to solve his criminal cases. ^_^ Heh. Like a bee to honey!)

Ah, Emmett! Bless him. He's the gift that keeps on giving. As the crazy wild card, I just never know what he's gonna do or say next! Try saying all those Emmett tongue twisters three times, fast! xD

* * *

Special thanks to the super-fab *_Simpleinsanity_ * for her Community support!

_The Ruby Red Raven_ - As you can see, poor Spock didn't take the news too well...wonder how the mind-meld's gonna go with Edward...

_Obscure Stranger_ - Oh, yeah. I think Spock's super awesome too! ;D (especially in Scruffy mode)

_Kanashii Kopper_ - Wow, I'm flattered by your compliments, thank you! I read your suggestion and tweaked the first chapter, so give it a gander. ;)

_Aspriles_ - Thank you! I'm quite proud of this crazy plot bunny. (pats the bunny's head) I love the characters of both the new Star Trek and Twilight...so I've decided to let them meet each other. LOL As for how far into the Twilight universe Spock goes...(grins)...let's just say, I have no intention of leaving anyone out. ;p

* * *

Go ahead, drop me a line! Place your names on the Review Page Hall of Fame! I'd love to hear from my readers! ;3


	6. Mindmeld

**Vulcan Twilight: Chapter 06 - Mind-Meld**

Edward felt both excitement and apprehension. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't feel the least bit afraid. After all, not only had he volunteered his mind to be subjected to a procedure he really knew nothing about, he had allowed himself to be completely at the mercy of an _alien!_ If Spock's 'mind-meld' touch-telepathy was anything like the Volturi leader, Aro - as was mentally shown to him by Carlisle - then their 'session' should only last a few minutes. Although, secretly, he was hoping for something...more. Just as their alien guest was seeking answers, he had questions of his own.

With assistance from Esme and Carlisle, Spock sat on a plush rug (Esme's insistence) atop the hardwood floor of the guest room, a loose-fitting gray shirt that matched his pants now covering his bare and bandaged torso. The curtains remained closed in the dimly lit room as he sat cross-legged, hands resting on his knees, his posture straight and dauntless as he waited for Edward's signal to begin. Candles, though totally unnecessary, were placed around the room at Edward's request, who reasoned that the small points of warm light provided Spock with a more relaxed atmosphere.

"Before we begin, I have a few questions," Edward began hesitantly, who sat on his heels opposite their alien guest.

"I will answer them," Spock replied.

"Does this...mind-meld thing go both ways? Can you show me where you came from?" Edward asked with a hopeful gaze.

"Yes. A mind-meld can go, as you say, 'both ways'. Although," Spock hesitated, looking a bit uncomfortable, "it is _not_ a common practice among my people to do so. For a simple interrogation, my mind would normally remain shielded...and should I consent to a complete meld..." He paused, breaking eye contact, trying to find the best way to explain his discomfort. "Empowering you with the freedom to share my mind in recompense would be entirely unorthodox behavior for _any_ Vulcan, one that would be viewed most unfavorably should I return to my own people."

"I see..." Edward said quietly, rather crestfallen. He expected the rejection, though fervently hoped that Spock would have allowed a mutual telepathic exchange. He was now left having to satisfy his curiosity with basic mental and verbal communication.

"However..." Spock continued slowly, already prepared for the likelihood of such a possibility. "Given the equally unorthodox situation I am currently _in_...I suppose, in this instance, I might be forgiven this discretion based on moral propriety. You, Edward, are entrusting me with your mind, therefore it is only proper that I entrust you with mine." He saw the immediate excited smile of the young man in front of him. "Any further questions?"

"Are there _any_ aftereffects to this mind-meld?" Carlisle asked imperatively. As Edward's companion and guardian, he had a right to know the consequences of his 'son's' reckless decision.

"You have my word, Carlisle, that Edward will not be harmed in any way," Spock reassured him. "Nevertheless," switching his gaze to specifically address Edward, "there _will_ be a...indeterminable amount of residual emotional and thought transference between us as a result of the meld. Regrettably, since I have not yet attained a full mastery of my psionic ability, I cannot prevent those aftereffects from happening."

Staring determinedly at his 'father', Edward slowly nodded and smiled when Carlisle conceded with a sigh.

The rest of the family were in a loose circle around the pair on the floor, each with mixed feelings about the event. Alice and Jasper huddled together atop the king-sized guest bed, Carlisle went to stand behind Spock, Esme sat behind Edward, while Emmett and Rosalie lounged on the floor, facing the pair on the rug.

After giving Carlisle another lengthy, steady gaze, Edward turned his head to Spock. He then tilted his head slightly with an amused look on his face.

"Uh...sure," was Edward's answer to Spock's mental instructions. "Alice, would you toss me a pillow, please?" The rest of his family watched as he gave the pillow to Spock, who placed it in his lap. He then laid down on the rug on his back, placing his head on the pillow, giving Spock easy access to the top of his head.

Emmett and Rosalie immediately began snickering softly, amid disapproving stares from the rest of the Cullens, though Spock remained composed and unfazed by their behavior.

"You nice and _cozy_ there, bro?"

"Snug as a bug, Emmett," Edward replied dryly and settled into a relaxed position. He stretched his legs straight out, nestling his socked feet on Esme's lap and intertwined the fingers of his hands, placing them on his chest. "Now what?"

"I will now situate the fingers of both my hands on specific points on your face and temples to gradually initiate the meld. Are you ready?" Spock looked down at Edward's inverted face on his lap, his hands poised a few centimeters away, prepared to stop on command in case there were any reservations.

"Go for it," Edward said, staring up at Spock intently.

"Very well."

Spock pressed his thumbs and index fingers to Edward's temples, only to slightly withdraw them after a moment, the digits hovering millimeters above where he'd placed them.

Edward's skin was _cold_, a temperature much too low for the average _living_ Earth Terran. Spock's slanted eyebrows crunched together slowly when he saw a smug smile forming on Edward's mouth.

"Something wrong?" Even the young man's voice sounded smug.

"Indisputably..." Spock muttered, as one slanted eyebrow rose higher than the other, his lips lightly pursing. "I suspect this meld shall prove to be most...fascinating."

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," Edward said excitedly. "Shall we?"

With a simple nod, Spock returned his thumbs and index fingers to Edward's temples, followed by his middle fingers near the top of Edward's cheekbones, gradually establishing the connection for the mind-meld between them. His gaze had turned glassy as he stared ahead, nearing a trance-like state.

There was a long pause when Spock's eyelids were halfway closed along with Edward's, his middle fingers traveling away from Edward's cheekbones to rest somewhere near the sides of Edward's head.

"Our minds," Spock whispered softly - his eyelids now three-quarters of the way shut, the rest of his fingers splaying out evenly on both sides of Edward's scalp in the general area of the brain - then added, "...one...and together."

The rest of the Cullen family watched as both Spock's and Edward's eyelids completely closed simultaneously, their serene bodies frozen like eerily constructed wax figures in a museum display case. The guest room then descended to a macabre stillness as six unusually pale figures followed their example and patiently waited...without movement, without breath, without heartbeat.

oooooooouuuuuuuurrrrrrrr

For Edward, it began with a tingling sensation that seemed to spark from the four fingertips that Spock rested on his temples.

For Spock, it was rather alarming to discover that Edward's body possessed no vital signs normally attributed to any _living_ being, and that the current placement of both his middle fingers proved useless to further deepen their mental connection. In a split second of fear, it was like trying to mind-meld with a corpse.

mmmmmiiiiinnnnndddddssssssss

Since there wasn't a pulse or blood flow to speak of, the nerve endings Spock traditionally sought out served no purpose, so his middle fingers wandered to the general area of Edward's brain where he hoped to find a trace of awareness...

...and there it was.

For Spock, the instant his middle fingers found a definite psionic portal, his remaining fingers settled into place.

oooooooonnnnnnnneeeeeeee

Edward wondered if a telepathic link between them was even possible, since their physiological differences might prevent one from ever happening. What then? How in the world could he explain to their alien guest what went wrong when Spock first arrived in their kitchen, when he himself knew next to nothing about the mechanics of his own existence.

aaaaaaaannnnnnnndddddddd

The tingling sensations that radiated from all ten of Spock's fingers increased in intensity, bombarding his entire body like a metal rod in the middle of a lightning storm. Edward's elation instantaneously turned to fear when the electrifying shocks became urgent, rhythmic surges that could only be described as deafening in its magnitude. But instead of his fear turning to panic, the rhythmic shocks of sensation that assailed him took on an oddly familiar quality. Though his mind had forgotten, his body recognized the deafening rhythm, even if the surges were much too slow from his recollection.

tttooogggeeettthhheeerrr

For the first time in more than a century, Edward realized with profound awe that his long inert body shared the strong, rhythmic beating of the living heart within Spock's chest!

...

..

.

The blowing air was thin, dry and hot. Everywhere he turned, all he could see were large, misshapen boulders and powdery desert. Whatever greenery he could find either resembled fleshy cactus or some kind of thick, thorny bramble. Shielding his eyes from the bright noonday sun, he tried to get a bearing for where he was...and that's when he noticed his skin.

His pale skin wasn't glittering.

Huh.

Edward moved with some effort at first as he stood up sluggishly, his body and limbs strangely uncooperative lead weights. Dusting off his white t-shirt and black jeans, he began walking in a direction away from the glaring light of the sun.

A few feet ahead over the first hill, Edward was treated to a magnificent vista of rock formations; the towering, leaning spires jutting like jagged fangs across the sandy landscape. Smiling with delight, he picked the closest spike and raced to its peak - which was several hundred feet in height - in a blur of inhuman speed.

Balancing himself on the very tip of the pointed rock, Edward squinted and spied a few miles away, what appeared to be a cluster of artificially-made structures. The sharp, angular towers were created to harmonize with the rocky environment and were cleverly built underneath and even _attached_ to the underside of a particularly massive, slanted rock-spire.

A city. A sheltered oasis.

Perhaps there, he would find his elusive tour guide.

Grinning, Edward sprang with wild abandon from the top of one jagged peak to another like a supernatural white panther, easily judging the distance he needed for every jump.

"You possess a most impressive physical agility I am eager to see you demonstrate to me in the outside world," Spock spoke curiously, materializing beside Edward when he landed on leaning rock-spire number eight.

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd show up," Edward said, still marveling at his surroundings. "So, _this_ is what a mind-meld's like? It's _incredible!_ Everything feels so..._real_."

"You are experiencing the environment around you the way I remember it. Welcome to Vulcan...my home planet."

There was no mistaking the sadness in Spock's voice.

"Are you wearing _layers?_" Edward commented in a lighter tone. Spock's knitted, dark blue-gray top hung squarely over his shoulders, a wide neckline revealing the elaborately tapered high collar of a light gray garment underneath. His dark gray pants were simple but rugged looking, tucked into black boots about two inches below his knees. "Must be at least 70 degrees hot out here."

"Vulcan days average between sixty-three point five to seventy-five point nine degrees Celsius, dropping to between negative thirty-five to negative fifty-five degrees below freezing at night. These 'layers' of protective fabric were made to compensate for those variables, although it can be argued that there is a more deliberate aesthetic quality to their functionality. However, Vulcan bodies can easily withstand our own planet's temperature changes without these garments for an extended period, whereas a human body would die in comparison."

"That's quite a mouthful," Edward said with a chuckle. Spock stared back blankly. _Yeah.._. "So, uh, what's the name of that city over there?"

"It is the city of Shi'Kahr, where I was born."

The heavy undercurrent of grief returned and Edward fought back the black eddy that threatened to swallow him whole.

"Can we explore the city?" Edward said, trying to distract Spock from the lingering ache of suffocating melancholy that followed every reference to his home-world.

"There is much I can show you," Spock said kindly. "Perhaps after you first answer my questions?"

"Fair enough," Edward replied and nodded.

With that said, Spock's Vulcan clothing morphed into some kind of uniform: a deep blue, long-sleeved top with a black undershirt - seen peeking through at the collar - with two, thick, silvery lines at the end of each sleeve and an emblem welded to the shirt on the left side of his chest. His pants were simple, made of black fabric in a slim but comfortable fit, ending with a pair of black, rather stylish utility boots.

The Vulcan terrain around them also vanished, replaced by a stark, white space.

"It is here that I've established an imaginary border between our minds," Spock conveyed. "To make it easier for us to communicate clearly, I am now giving _you_ the freedom to proceed in whatever format you wish."

"I don't quite follow," Edward said.

"Think of this space as a blank page in a picture book. If I were to ask you a question..." Spock stopped and waited.

"...I can use this empty space to show you the answer," Edward finished with excitement. "You'd let me _do_ that?"

"You have not attempted thought-manipulation?"

"No. This'll be an absolute first," Edward said with a shrug. "For a long time, my so-called gift's been limited to one setting, and since I've met no other telepaths, I've never tried to be creative with this thing I do."

"I see," Spock said and paused introspectively. "Then, Edward, it would appear that this is your best opportunity to give your creativity a try."

"In that case," Edward said confidently. "Ask away."

"You and your family claim to be vampires," Spock stated. "How is that possible?"

"Oh, sure...let's start with the Titanic," Edward grumbled as he lightly nibbled his lower lip, thinking of ways he could show Spock his piece of the whole Cullen family vampire puzzle. "I can only tell you what I know. If you need more information...you'll have to ask Carlisle." Spock nodded, then looked past his shoulder at something behind him.

Edward quickly turned around and gaped. Brought to life on _his_ 'side' of the white space was the most epically enormous moving pictures display ever conceived, where images of his memories flickered continuously on an invisible floating screen - easily several hundred feet in height and width - seemingly cast from some invisible projector.

"Whoa...I...I _did_ this?" Edward spoke haltingly, his mouth staying open.

"It appears that you did," Spock remarked with mild amusement on his features. It was a commendable start for a beginner. "Now that you've decided on a format, you must organize the memories you wish to show me."

After a considerable amount of concentration, the haphazard flashes of multiple images on the colossal picture screen perceptively lessened, then stopped, halting on a hazy image of Carlisle.

"This was when my vampire life began," Edward explained. "I was dying of the Spanish Influenza when the pandemic hit Chicago in 1918. The first World War was raging and there I was in the prime of my youth...waning from the illness on a hospital bed. Carlisle was the resident doctor at the time. He took care of my family and many others on the floor we were in. Carlisle did everything he could, but my parents died of the disease...and it wasn't long before death came for me too...but it wasn't the death I expected. I was practically delirious with fever when Carlisle told me that he had the power to keep me alive, but that it came at a terrible price, and that it wasn't a choice I should make _lightly_." The images on the screen moved in slow motion and paused on a blurry Carlisle after he'd asked him the big question. "At the time, I did what any seventeen-year-old would've done because I wanted to _live_, regardless of the consequences. So, I said, 'yes.' Then Carlisle _bit_ me. I was so weak and helpless I couldn't fight him off. Once the venom he carried spread through my body, being bitten on the neck was the least of my worries." The images on the screen wavered then faded to black.

When Edward glanced at Spock he was startled to find him hunched on his hands and knees on the white 'ground' - though there really was no ground to speak off, Spock might as well be suspended in nothing since he cast no shadow. Spock's fists were clenched tightly...almost as if he was somehow in great _pain_...

Oh, shit.

"Spock!" Edward called out, kneeling beside him and grabbing the alien's quaking shoulders. "I'm so sorry! I didn't kn - I forgot where we were!" He felt Spock shrinking away from him. He let go instantly, berating himself for losing sight of the fact that Vulcans didn't like unnecessary physical contact. He blinked. Where did that come from?

"Was that...the effect of the venom?" Spock managed to reply with his head bowed, still reeling from the intensity of the pain that abruptly assaulted him at a certain point during his companion's tale.

"Yes," Edward answered grimly. "I was careless. I made you feel exactly how I felt when I was changing...transforming into..._this_."

"Then the venom...has transmutational properties," Spock said slowly as he allowed Edward to carefully help him to his feet. "A sample of this liquid...I would be most eager to study...with twenty-third century technology. It may even unlock the mystery of your origins since you and Carlisle are still seeking answers."

"Oh, you picked up on that."

"You and Carlisle feel very strongly about it. It was not hard to 'pick up'."

"Wait-a-minute..._twenty-third_ century technology?" Edward blurted out. Behind him, the gigantic movie screen automatically replayed the events of Spock's awakening in their guest room from his memories. "You asked Carlisle for the 'star-date'...and that look on your face..."

"I'm from Earth's twenty-third century, the year twenty-two-fifty-eight. Based on Carlisle's answer and your reactions..." Spock faltered. "If I am indeed in the past and from what I know of Earth's history...at the current state of this planet's twenty-first century technology, there will be no way for me to return home."

"We'll _find_ a way," Edward said with determination and resolve. He felt very strongly about Spock's well-being and sending the Vulcan home was the only way to assure that. "Wait. You said you're in the past, right? All we have to do is find a way for you phone home." He mentally cringed at his choice of the E.T. movie reference.

"As tempting as that option is, I have already considered that...but I cannot," Spock said sadly but with finality.

"Why the hell not?" Edward asked in confusion. "It's the most _logical_ choice isn't it?" He wondered why he'd chosen to emphasize the word 'logical.'

"Perhaps..." Spock replied. "However, there is an ever-present rule that I must adhere to without question. A rule that is highly relevant to my present...problem."

"Rules? You're gonna stick to a rulebook? Are you serious? You're _stranded_ here for heaven's sake!" Edward argued.

"It is called the Temporal Prime Directive," Spock explained, "and it was created to insure the protection and preservation of the natural order of the universe around us."

"Deliberate non-involvement," Edward said flatly. "Sounds pretty heartless to me."

"On the contrary, the rule prevents even more catastrophic events from occurring as a result of reckless or impulsive intervention," Spock continued. "For example, if I were to contact Vulcan _now,_ in my present time-displaced state...I would be constantly assailed by the compulsion to alter the course of future events."

"I don't get it," Edward disagreed with a frown. "Why would saving your home planet be a _bad_ thing?"

Spock stayed silent, refusing to answer.

Being mentally linked to Spock gave Edward a unique and profound perspective into the alien's psychology. On the outside, there was no pronounced physical feedback to the emotional magnitude of the situation. It was nothing less than remarkable. If their circumstances were reversed, if it were _him_ rather than Spock who was stranded centuries in the past with no hope of returning home...his show of grief would be intense. Now, within the mind-meld, he knew that underneath Spock's placid mask was a monstrous undercurrent of thunderous turmoil...and profound sorrow.

Edward was reminded of the image of a woman who reflected a similar sorrow, a face he'd unintentionally manifested. Visibly reacting this time, Spock stepped backward unsteadily, his widened eyes riveted to something behind him.

"How..." Spock whispered in distress. His gaze bouncing wildly between Edward and the woman's face on the monolithic movie screen.

"Spock...who is she?" Edward asked gently, scolding himself for his second blunder.

"She...was Amanda Grayson..." Spock struggled to say, his haunted voice drifting down a deep, dark well of anguish. "She was my mother."

"Your _mother?_" Edward echoed back in shock and studied the freeze-framed image of Amanda Grayson. The terrified but resigned expression on her face, the world literally crumbling around her, the filaments of dancing white light, the odd style of her clothing...those things now paled in comparison to two significant details that pierced him with a golden arrow of revelation: the eyebrows on her forehead weren't slanted inward and her name sounded too..._human_. He turned to gape at Spock. There was no need to ask the burning question.

"Yes. My father was Vulcan...and my mother was a human from Earth," Spock said softly.

"_That's_ why you wouldn't believe us, the way you argued so much about the way we all _looked_," Edward rambled, shaking his head in disbelief. "We all wondered why you smelled strangely..._familiar_. You're half-human! Your human scent was mingled so closely with your alien half...we couldn't figure out what was bothering us." He ran a hand roughly through his hair.

"...scent?"

Edward chuckled to himself. Spock mirrored Carlisle's insatiable curiosity from time to time when the opportunity struck him.

"Yeah. Like a wolf or a bloodhound but only the Trackers of our kind use scent to its full potential. All Vampires have heightened senses after the _change_," Edward explained. "Sight, smell, hearing, touch, even taste. Although taste's taken a major back seat since we don't eat regular food anymore."

"I see," Spock said distractedly.

"I know what's bothering you is something deeply personal and I don't mean to pry...but I've learned that talking about it seems to ease the burden," Edward pressed delicately, the vivid image of Spock's mother returning to his enormous movie screen. "I'm really sorry. I can't stop myself from showing her...reminding you - "

"You mean me no harm. We are, after all, mentally linked," Spock replied. "What I do not understand is how you _have_ this image when I cannot recall ever sharing it with you."

"About that..." Edward mumbled. "Carlisle deliberately left out _my_ participation in the story of when you first arrived." He instantly had the alien's full attention as he rewound his memories to present his perspective.

"By the way, the tube we stuck in your arm's an Intravenous drip. Carlisle made sure the solution was free from impurities or artificial compounds. It's strictly so you wouldn't dehydrate," Edward explained, somehow sensing the need for that clarification.

"Thank you. I appreciate the information," Spock replied.

As soon as Edward finished showing his missing piece of the' Alien Arrival Story' on his moving picture screen, there was an expression of distress on Spock's face.

"That...is not possible. Given my current level of psionic ability, a simple firm grip to your wrist should _not_ have given you access to my thoughts at the degree you have shown me," Spock said in a troubled manner. From his personal tally, whatever ground he gained maddeningly kept uncovering more _questions_ to every answer!

With no one else around to cast accusing glances or deliver reprimands, Spock sat down on his empty 'half' of the white space and leaned heavily against an imaginary wall, relinquishing part of his composure. The weight of his situation along with everything he'd learned began pushing oppressively down on him. He gazed sadly at the image of his mother which remained frozen on Edward's mental movie screen.

In the span of silence, Edward joined Spock on the white-space 'floor.'

"You saw the moment of my mother's death," Spock stated, his voice wavering with fresh grief. "Vulcan had only minutes left before it was completely consumed by an artificially induced black hole within the planet's core. I risked my life to save the Vulcan High Council who were the keepers of our cultural and technological collective memory. It was imperative that _they_, at least, survived so that we could somehow rebuild again elsewhere...even if the more than six billion inhabitants of Vulcan had perished."

His eyelids slid shut as Spock leaned his head back dejectedly against his imaginary wall. Edward's face was full of sympathy toward his alien companion.

"Perhaps...if I had kept my mother behind me where we stood, she would've been alive - " _To see me kill myself in a collision course with the Narada. _"Vulcan," Spock continued, after briefly clearing his throat, "the planet was crumbling when I transported to the surface,"

_The ribbons of light_, Edward said to himself, somehow knowing what being 'transported' actually meant.

The frozen image of Amanda Grayson flitted from view as the memory resequenced itself, Spock filling in the gaps to his story.

"I ran quickly toward the Katric Arc, a hidden ancient temple containing the remains of Vulcan's ancestors and the Central Memory Archive. My father was among the gathered Elders who congregate every few days to meditate there. My mother never failed to accompany him." Spock briefly paused a scene where he first made eye contact with both his parents. His mother sat outside the circle of Elders on a cushion just behind his father. She had leapt up in surprise when she saw him.

"I led them outside. I felt the death of two Elders crushed under the crumbling structure."

The once magnificent vista of rock-spires was replaced by a rapidly widening fissure that slowly approached the small ledge where he, the sparse High Council and his mother, stood.

"Precious seconds," Spock whispered forlornly.

They both watched the tragic disappearance of the Vulcan landscape as it eroded into a rapidly expanding void that took Spock's mother along with it.

It was a loss too horrific to describe with words, and if Edward still had the ability to shed tears, he would have done so. He watched as Spock hugged his knees close to his chest, burying his face in the fold of his arms. Then the images on the enormous movie screen shifted.

Instead of Amanda Grayson, Edward saw the gentle, smiling face of a beautiful young woman of African descent. Hardly any make-up mottled her glowing, dark-brown complexion, her hair draped behind her in an ebony waterfall bound by a knot near the top of her head. What amazed him was her expression. The woman gazed back with a love and devotion he couldn't fathom. Love was still something of a mystery to him even after more than a century into his vampire life-span.

Yet here was Spock, an alien hybrid he first met bleeding green atop his home's extended kitchen island, who came from a distant future straight out of a science fiction novel...and with a _human_ _girlfriend_, no less! Edward chuckled involuntarily in response to where his thoughts went. "I'm _truly_ sorry, I think I'm coming apart at the seams."

"Would the phrase, 'Get in line' be a complement to that?" Spock replied as he lifted his tired face from the cradle of his arms. Sarcasm was a trait he had 'inherited' from his mother which involuntarily manifested itself from time to time.

"Actually, yeah, it would be," Edward said, quite surprised.

"I have learned to somewhat adapt to certain aspects of human behavior. I've spent nearly eight years living and working on Earth in my time, specifically with cadets and colleagues at Starfleet Academy located in San Francisco, California."

"Are you telling me that - " Edward stopped and stared incredulously at the visualization before him of humans and _various species_ _of_ _aliens_ mingling together inside a complex structure of futuristic buildings clad in red uniforms. "Wow." How he wished he could show the rest of his family what he was seeing!

"If they would not object to a standard mind-meld, I could project my memories directly to them," Spock offered.

"I know for sure Carlisle would be your second volunteer for this experience. Besides, he's been a vampire since the sixteen-hundreds when he lived in Europe. You could add what he knows to your personal catalogue of human history," Edward said, recognizing immediately that the notion thoroughly intrigued his alien friend. "If you don't have anymore urgent questions, maybe we should be getting back. Feels like we've been in here for days."

"The passage of time is irrelevant here. We are conversing at the speed of thought, even if part of you believes otherwise. It is a common mistake among beginners," Spock explained.

"Part of my learning curve, then," Edward said, then added rather slyly, "by the way...I know it's none of my business...but who was that beautiful young woman I saw?" When Spock gave no response, he projected the face he'd seen. "You...were thinking about her so strongly that it popped up on the movie screen."

A different kind of sadness and longing seemed to emanate from his alien friend beside him, as Spock once again leaned back heavily, regarding the face before him.

"She is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura," Spock said fondly. "I imagine her to be very angry with me...since I broke a promise I made to her before I arrived here."

"Oh? What promise was that?" Edward asked curiously.

"I promised to _return_ to her alive," Spock spoke softly, filled with regret. "Instead, I chose revenge over love. Now I will never see her again."

Their virtual movie screen went blank, indicating that the subject was not open for further discussion.

"Would you like to see where _I_ was born?" Edward said excitedly as he closed his eyes, willing the memories in his head to take shape and form, in the hope of transporting them back in time to turn of the century Chicago.

Spock found himself wandering the startling landscape of pressed-dirt streets filled with rails and clanging streetcars, horse-drawn carriages, noisy motorized vehicles of flimsy construction, a sky filled with coal and diesel smoke, women wearing full dresses walking under parasols, while the men wore three-piece suits and hats. He had seen images of Earth's historical photography during his freshman year at Starfleet Academy doing research on developing civilizations. He also recalled his over-enthusiastic human lab partner, a brilliant and bubbly eighteen-year-old female named Sophie Riker, a self-proclaimed Ancient Earth historian who had filled her head with the knowledge and trivia of several time periods. Since he was her first Vulcan acquaintance, he had inadvertently become the subject of her focus, where she thought it amusing for him to learn as much about his 'Earth-half' as he could 'physically stomach.'

"Not much to look at, but it was home," Edward said, referring to the sights and sounds of downtown Chicago. He was also clothed in appropriate 1900's fashion. "I actually wore this stuff when I was growing up." He laughed with unrestrained mirth at his tan-colored pinstripe ensemble. "You won't be hearing me admit this to anyone else, but now that I look at it, I was a bit of a dork." His clothing then altered back to his white t-shirt and black jeans. "These days, Alice basically turns me into her version of a walking Ken doll. I don't mind, though." He shrugged and smiled. "It makes her happy, so I let her do it."

They walked in companionable silence, Edward quietly observing Spock's reactions to portions of his memory. Though his alien friend portrayed his customary impassive features, his head and eyes were constantly active, swiveling and staring at everything around him.

"C'mon, let's get a coach. We can cover more ground," Edward suggested, whistling for one's attention. He gracefully leapt into an open carriage the moment it stopped, grinning to himself when Spock warily joined him.

Proud of himself for conjuring up an expensive private open carriage he'd once admired in a shop window, Edward leaned back on the cushioned leather seat and assumed a relaxed position he'd often seen wealthy gentlemen do: back straight, arms spread out and propped on the seat on either side of him, his left leg crossed loosely over his right knee. With his confidence and ravishingly handsome features, he easily held the aura and bearing of a visiting prince touring the city of Chicago.

Spock, in contrast, sat rather tensely with perfect posture carefully studying the carriage interior. At some point, he slowly and methodically ran his hands and fingers along the leather cushion and sections of the carriage's wooden structure.

"This degree of memory projection has a quality and detail that is highly unusual for a novice," Spock commended, also rather surprised.

"What can I say, I've always been a quick learner," Edward smiled. " Probably just another trait carried over to this vampire body."

"'Carried over'?"

"A mystery of the vampire venom. When it changes us, it turns us into a 'perfect' representation of ourselves, sometimes augmenting certain traits we have into supernatural abilities," Edward elaborated. "Which leads me to mention the Volturi. They're a powerful coven of ancient vampires that Carlisle actually lived among a few centuries ago in Volterra, Italy. They have a nasty habit of _acquiring_ those of us that possess special abilities. That makes me, Alice and Jasper definite targets, so we stay below their radar. They've also established themselves as 'vampire royalty' responsible for maintaining certain rules and codes of conduct within the vampire world since the 'dawn of time'. If you ask me, I think they're just aristocratic bullies bent on world domination."

"If that is true, then why haven't the Volturi subjugated the entire human population?"

"Simple: humans vastly outnumber us. There's a good possibility of totally wiping us out if they ever knew we existed, especially in this day and age. I'm pretty sure none of us can outrun a nuclear explosion no matter how fast we _do_ run. Unlike humans, vampires don't relish the idea of teaming up, even for a common goal. We're naturally too territorial and violently competitive for that. So, we stay hidden. That's probably why nobody from your future's ever heard or seen us. We most likely evacuated to the farthest regions of space the second warp drive technology was perfected and created a vampire planet colony or something ridiculous like that."

Edward's face formed the strangest mixture of astonishment and confusion.

"There it is again," he whispered. "What the hell do _I_ know about warp drive technology or the fact that Vulcans don't like random physical contact...or how people are secretly afraid of transporters because nobody likes the idea of their atoms flying apart...What's going on here?" He was stunned to see the same level of consternation on Spock's face.

"Perhaps it is best that we end the mind-meld until I can assess what is happening," Spock said, mumbling his last words. _How can we have reached this kind of synaptic compatibility at such an early stage__? __At this rate...we may end up finishing each other's sentences_. "I am grateful, Edward, for your willingness to subject yourself to this mode of inquiry. I now see that a mind-meld was highly unnecessary and I accept _full_ responsibility for any...irregularities we may both suffer as a result of my lapse in judgment."

"I would've done the same thing," Edward quickly spoke. All trace of 1900s Chicago vanished, leaving them alone in desolate white space. "Except that I _wouldn't_ have been as tactful or composed about it as you have been with us. You can't blame yourself for doing something in a situation that _none_ of us imagined would _ever_ happen."

"There is only one thing I am certain of," Spock stated, staring Edward steadily in the eyes, "that based on the present situation and my rather...unstable mental and...emotional state, I do not trust myself to take the most prudent course of action and may cause irreparable harm to you and your family."

"What are you suggesting? That Carlisle and I chain you up and throw you in a cage in the basement?" Edward retorted angrily. "What'll that accomplish?" When Spock remained silent, he added, "besides, not that I'm being condescending here, but I doubt you pose any sort of threat. In fact, you have more to fear from _us_."

"The steady diet of fresh blood," Spock confirmed. "However, isn't it true that you are all morally evolved in comparison to the general vampire population? You also feed exclusively on _animal_ blood, and since you and your family do not seem to find my blood in any way appetizing, you therefore pose no threat to me."

"Hey, how did you - "

"Again, I advise that we terminate the mind-meld before our link becomes..._permanent_."

"That sounds ugly," Edward mentioned, reacting to a jolt of aversion that accompanied those words. "Alright, let's get out of here."

"You must calm your thoughts," Spock instructed and went to stand within arm's reach of the strange once-human. "Normally, I would simply withdraw from your mind by breaking physical contact with my fingers. However, as a precaution due to unforeseen...complications, I will instead sever our connection gradually. Are you ready?"

"Spock, for what it's worth, it's really _me_ who should apologize for cornering you into this. I practically pushed you to do a mind-meld between us out of selfish curiosity. But I don't regret the experience...and I hope you don't either," Edward admitted.

Taken aback by his honest confession, Spock was at a loss for words, his hands frozen near Edward's temples.

.

..

...

His body was emerging from a century-long slumber. At least, that's what it _felt_ like. Every limb was heavy and achy, his head throbbing as if a crazed woodpecker had taken up residence inside his skull. It also took an unusually longer time for his eyes to focus, but when they did, he shut them again tightly to blot out the wildly spinning room which made him want to throw up.

"Edward? Can you hear me?" Carlisle said, snapping his fingers and waving a tiny, LED penlight into his 'eldest son's' dilated pupils. Seeing an array of _human_ responses worried him greatly.

Coughing momentarily to rid an annoying tickle in his throat, Edward slowly sat up with assistance from Emmett.

"...nnngghh..." Edward groaned. After rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, he chuckled and said, "did somebody see that train?" He glanced around him, but missed the stunned faces of his family. "Damn...I haven't felt this rotten since..." A fiery comet of realization and he frantically sought out the one person who had the answers but found him unconscious. They were back inside the third floor guest room, Spock tucked neatly under the covers of the king-sized bed.

"How long were we under?" Edward demanded as he stood to his feet.

"Just over an hour," Carlisle replied.

"That's it?" Edward said in disbelief. "It felt like we were gone for _weeks_." He glanced at Spock's sleeping form.

"Neither of you moved a millimeter," Carlisle supplied. "For any of us, an hour of perfect stillness is insignificant. Our bodies can remain immobile indefinitely if we wished it. But, for Spock...somehow, he was able to slow his biological functions down to the point of _near-death_." His boyish excitement returned. "I've never seen anything like it. He literally has _precise_ control over his entire body."

"It was part of his training since early childhood. Apparently, the entire Vulcan race is dedicated to the pursuit of enlightenment through logic and total mastery of all emotion..." Edward said, then trailed of, "...something like that." He stared at Spock with a worried expression.

A strong whack to his right arm made him turn away.

"Ya gonna tell us what the fuck happened to you or what?" Emmett said impatiently.

Rather than being angry or annoyed, Edward laughed. His brawny brother's candor did wonders to ease his tension and he laughed even harder when everyone thought he'd gone crazy.

"I'm sorry," Edward said giddily. "It's just that...no words can really do justice to describe what I saw and felt inside that mind-meld. So here's my crude, abridged version." He glanced significantly at Carlisle and Emmett. "It was the most fucking amazing thing I have _ever_ experienced," he gushed. "I set foot on the planet of Vulcan. I saw a glimpse of the future: San Francisco, twenty-two-fifty-eight. I even managed to show Spock the city of Chicago the way I remembered it in nineteen-fifteen. And the _best_ part of the whole thing? Everything was as _real_ as your senses perceived it!"

Edward's enthusiasm was so infectious that he made his entire family smile, even if some of them remained skeptical.

"You're not seriously suggesting we _all_ take part in that whole mind-melt thingy, do you?" Emmett declared. "Coz from where I'm sitting, I think that alien did some freaky body-snatcher mojo to that head of yours. You came back all..._wrong_."

"Will you listen to yourself?" Edward remarked with a chuckle. "Em, for the last time - " He instantly zipped to Spock's side when he began to stir.

The rest of the Cullens surrounded the bed as the alien regained consciousness, Edward and Esme quickly assisting him to a more upright position.

Stiff, achy and disoriented, Spock took a moment to compose himself as he silently regarded the faces of the Cullen family gathered around him.

"If...you all wouldn't mind...I wish to be alone," Spock said softly, staring at the intertwined fingers of his hands on his lap and refusing to make eye contact with Edward.

"We all heard his request," Esme said imperiously, feeling protective of their alien guest. "Shall we?" No one objected as they filed out of the room.

When Edward hesitated, hovering near Spock's bedside, Esme firmly held both her eldest son's hands and lead him outside, shutting the door behind them. They rejoined the rest of the family in the living room.

"Now what?" Emmett said, frowning as he watched Edward worriedly, who sat hunched on the sofa beside Esme, his face buried in his hands. "We're stuck with a dangerous alien upstairs that can play mind-twister with us."

"We can't jump to conclusions like that," Carlisle maintained. "If he meant us any harm, he would have done so by now. Spock's shown us nothing but the utmost civility."

"The kindness it exhibits may just be an elaborate facade. First, it gains our trust till each of us allows it to poke inside our minds. For all we know, he might've discovered something interesting inside Edward's brain," Rosalie stated, defending her mate's opinion which she shared.

"Emmett, Rosalie...you're wrong."

Startled, everyone turned to face Alice who had spoken.

"Edward's right. If you won't listen to him, then please, listen to _me_. Spock needs our help," Alice voiced out firmly. _And we'll need his!_ It frustrated her greatly not being able to share her visions with the rest of her family, but doing so would jeopardize - ! Her mind went blank when Edward sharply looked up at her. She quickly hid behind Jasper, mentally imploring her mind-reading brother not to pursue her mental musings any further.

"I also disagree that Spock's dangerous," Esme insisted. "I sense no animosity or ill will from him. Carlisle and I found him wounded, so we took him in and saved his life. Now, all of a sudden we cast him out based on _what,_ exactly, because I'd like to hear it." It surprised her how confrontational she was acting and it stunned the rest of her family, as well.

"You want proof, Esme?" Emmett challenged. "Explain then why we're at each other's throats over that _thing_ up there? This turmoil's exactly what it wants. It's keeping us off-balance till it picks us off one by one." He glared pointedly at his eldest brother.

Still hunched over, Edward dug his fingers painfully into his temples as the cacophony of thoughts, images and words all centered around their alien guest became unbearable.

"Everyone just STOP," he stood up and bellowed, his spoken words accompanied by a menacingly loud, leonine roar. "Where's he gonna _go_? Huh? His lives in the year twenty-two-fifty-eight! Nothing short of a time machine's the only hope he has of ever going home. He's _trapped_ here! You want him gone? Fine. But I'm going _with_ him."

"What?" they all exclaimed in unison, staring at Edward in shock.

As the Cullen family argued heatedly amongst themselves, Spock slipped silently near the living room. He leaned heavily against the main fireplace which was incorporated into a section of solid stone wall that architecturally served as both a structural support and decorative partition. It didn't take long before someone noticed his arrival.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Edward scolded and dashed to stand beside him. "That mind-meld took a lot out of you."

"I daresay it did," Spock answered reluctantly. "But my physical condition is not of paramount concern." He unsteadily walked forward, refusing Edward's efforts to assist him and propped himself on the sofa's backrest. "May I ask that you allow me to speak without interruption," he continued with some effort, looking expectantly at each member of the Cullen family.

"We will remain silent till you've had your say," Carlisle stated reassuringly.

It was obvious enough to all of them that it took a Herculean effort for their injured alien guest to be standing among them in the first floor living room. Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper fidgeted uneasily.

"First, I would like to express my gratitude to Carlisle, Esme and Edward for saving my life, and to the rest of you for the hospitality you have extended." Spock briefly nodded when they smiled - some albeit awkwardly - and pressed on. "Six hours ago, when I awoke...I _distinctly_ remember piloting my ship on a collision course with the central command module of a Romulan warship whose captain was responsible for obliterating the more than six billion inhabitants that resided on my home-world of Vulcan. I was _fully_ conscious until the moment of impact and I had resigned myself to the fact that there was _no_ hope of survival. Therefore, I _cannot_ explain how or why I am _here..._because my very existence here _defies_ all logic. Also, my presence here is causing unnecessary discord, and for that, I convey my deepest apologies." His lips formed a tight line as he struggled to stand, his mind slowly losing ground to an internal battle of wills with his body. "I must now face the brutal fact that I am permanently displaced in space and time...incalculably far from my home-planet that no longer exists...away from a love that I will never know again...and left at the mercy of my half-human heritage which I cannot even begin to fathom."

With his face uncharacteristically contorted in pain, Spock bowed his head dejectedly and closed his eyes, a cold numbness enveloping him. "I have no hope of ever returning home."

Edward caught him before he hit the floor, as Spock once again sank into unconsciousness. Quickly but carefully depositing him onto the sofa, he stepped aside to let Carlisle examine his alien friend, worry and apprehension blemishing his handsome features. He clung securely to Esme's arm - who was gratefully at his side - his mind too distraught to block out the multiple mental exclamations of shock, sadness and pity that flooded his head. As he watched Carlisle work on Spock, an alarming feeling of dread crept up his spine. He then fought through the cacophony of voices and images from his family, focusing his entire concentration on forcibly preserving a sentient alien mind that was deliberately slipping away.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Correspondence**:

mwjen - Thanks! And yes, the Spock I'm using came from a different reality. (since technically, the Enterprise came to his full rescue, and he wasn't even shot at) I've plucked an unsuspecting Spock-who'd rather be cuddling Nyota-and flung him back in time to another dimension to meet the Cullens, thus deliberately changing the vampire family's fates as well! (I take full responsibility.) ^_^;

Obscure Stranger - Mine too! Spock definitely stuck his foot in his mouth with that 'vampires don't exist' statement. xD As for Spock's trip to La Push...that'll be one heck of a chapter! (It's hard enough that the poor La Push boys have to deal with their shape-shifting into wolves, now I have to slap on a direct confrontation with a real, live _alien!_ The fur's gonna fly faster than we can blink.) :3

The Ruby Red Raven - Thank you! (Aha, the pairings!) Truth be told, I can't honestly speculate beyond the currently developing friendship between Spock and Edward. (I'm curious myself!) ;) (And, Spock's still in love with Nyota!)

Amethiste - I'm totally touched and flattered by your comments, thank you! What can I say, both the Twilight and new Star Trek universes called out to me for adventure. LMAO And yes, the main focus is on Spock and Edward. As far as a relationship between them...let's see where their friendship takes them first...(Besides, Spock's in love with Nyota!)

mykardia - Thanks for tuning in! Glad you like what you've seen, so far. It doesn't matter if you haven't read the Twilight series. (I only got into Stephanie Meyer's books after the movie came out!) I'm trying to write a story _anybody,_ with just general knowledge of both universes, can read and enjoy. I rated it M to be safe, since I'm definitely gonna delve into some rather adult themes. ^_^ (Not to mention Emmett's nasty mouth!)

Landy - Thank you very much for your review! And, yes, I definitely agree that these are the two most unlikely and rather difficult universes to merge. (unless you're insane like me) Love the characters from both worlds, and technically, it's Carlisle's fault for the whole mess. xD (he really has to be careful what he wishes for)

l0lal0lz - Thanks for the note. Edward and Spock send their regards. xD

Kanashii Kopper - I, in turn, look forward to your honest feedback. Feel free to correct any errors, since I can't catch them all. And, yes, Hail Emmett, the Cullen comic relief! He's perfect for making those awkward moments memorable!

Aspriles - I've always wanted to read a proper crossover...heh...so I decided to write one. (Talk about taking matters into my own hands) And yes, Spock _did_ arrive three years before Bella resides in Forks, and she'll definitely be joining the story in the future...but in a way that most probably won't expect.

Merina Green - Wow! Stellar reviews, thanks so much! Glad you're enjoying the trip. :) Thought I'd combine two worlds that I'm currently faving right now. Cross your fingers for me to keep my muse in top form!

MaliciousDoughnut - Very true. Since the Cullens are vampires and all...the future's looking a lot more complicated than Spock ever anticipated. xD

lorza.b - And I'm SO wanting to finish this story. (Wish 'life' stuff didn't get in the way!)

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ah, Emmett, ever the voice of brutal reality. Totally tackless and unafraid to say whatever he feels should be said. xD

My happy gratitude to everyone's support! I'm enjoying this crazy journey as much as you all are, so your feedback on this latest chapter is most appreciated.

Now...onto more chapters... *fingers typing determinedly on keyboard*

(=^_^=)


	7. Humans and Vampires

**Vulcan Twilight: Chapter 07 - Humans and Vampires**

Jane sneered distastefully at their human receptionist as she strode past Gianna's desk. She glanced at a well-dressed Heidi who subtlety inclined her head in greeting as she drifted past. The statuesque vampire woman, a perfect example of a wolf in sheep's clothing, lead a crowd of visitors down the corridor, all doomed to become the next Volturi meal.

Today was one of the rare occasions Jane disguised herself and walked brazenly exposed in full daylight among the cacophony of human activity that always clustered around the Piazza dei Priori. After all, the well-preserved ancient buildings in Volterra where the Volturi had resided for over three thousand years was now a celebrated Italian tourist attraction.

Donning the concealing garments of a Muslim girl, Jane ignored the stares of the people around her as she walked along the cobblestone pathways of the Piazza. She enjoyed the notion of hiding in plain sight and she wore the best and most comfortable disguise she had chosen to that effect. Of course, compared to the traditional full-bodied flowing hijab and face niqab worn by an average Muslim girl, her lilac-colored ensemble was made entirely of delicately embroidered _silk_. The only visible accessories - also decidedly out of place - that made her a fashionable girl by today's standards were a pair of white, diamond-accented Chanel sunglasses with matching Chanel pumps on her stockinged feet.

"Rather reckless of you to walk around unescorted, _little_ sister," Alec said with amusement, falling into step beside her. He wore a professionally fitted wig and a custom face-mask of the highest quality that gave him the appearance of Middle Eastern descent.

"You look hideous," Jane said with distaste and grinned underneath her niqab. Her brother had chosen to wear a casual yet sophisticated ensemble from Michael Bastian's haute couture. "Oh, look, we even have matching eye-wear. What an adorable pair we make," she added sarcastically. "Also, I must admit, you're one of the rare men who wear Chanel well, _little_ brother."

"Thought I'd join you, for once, on one of you excursions," Alec said, ignoring her testy remarks.

"I'm warning you, I _will_ hurl you into the next human tour-group the instant you begin to totally irritate me. I have an important errand to run, so please keep up."

"Is it another treasure hunt for Athenodora? What a marvelous distraction," Alec said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "I wonder what she wishes us to find?"

When his sister chose not to answer, he began to wonder.

"Or perhaps Caius has finally contrived a way to permanently dismiss Leonius from our ranks?" Alec presumed slyly.

Leonius was a grey-caped Volturi guard who had brazenly defied the Volturi Lord's orders on numerous occasions and it infuriated Caius that Aro constantly defended him. Many of the Volturi were openly aware of the centuries-long animosity between the two of them.

"Where I'm going has nothing to do with treasure hunting or with _him_," Jane answered curtly, walking briskly past a busload of Japanese tourists, many of whom didn't hesitate to snap her picture. "This is about Gianna."

Alec stopped in his tracks, clearly not expecting his sister's answer. What had that annoying human hornet blackmailed Lord Aro with _this_ time? It galled him to think that a lowly walking blood-bag was clever enough to keep Lord Aro disinterested in killing her.

"I'll fill you in as we move along, Alec, so keep pace with me," Jane said irritably.

A silver Rolls Royce waited for the pair at the edge of the Piazza which the two promptly entered, their chauffeur already aware of their intended destination.

Seated comfortably inside the vehicle, Jane thought it was rather hypocritical of them to employ a network of humans for their day to day dealings with the outside world. It was a necessary 'inconvenience' as Lord Aro had labeled it and a modern adjustment the Volturi simply had to endure for the sake of 'efficiency.'

"I'm investigating a possible angle using Sigrun's research on how to discredit the existence of Gianna's supposed vampire journals," Jane explained to her brother after sliding shut the glass divider that separated them from their driver inside the vehicle's luxurious interior. "If this succeeds, it will give us the leverage we need to be rid of that human's hold over Lord Aro. Then her screams of agony shall serenade us before I crush her skull beneath my foot."

Jane's twin brother sat in contemplative silence for the remainder of the trip as their silver Rolls Royce sped away, cleverly navigating past the hubbub of the crowded Piazza dei Priori. Half an hour away, a Gulfstream G650 awaited the twin siblings on a private airstrip, prepped and ready for their departure to the city of Milano.

* * *

_Three years before Gianna's employment as receptionist to the Volturi Empire..._

Inside the opulent master bedroom of a modest 20 room mansion and comfortably tucked underneath brocaded sheets on a massive Redwood king-sized bed was an elderly man, his life inevitably fading.

A young woman, roughly twenty-one years of age, sat sobbing by her grandfather's deathbed watching the frailty of old age run its course, his withered body weakening with each passing hour. Of her entire family, only her father's father, Gianmarco, ever truly understood her and she was soon about to lose him forever. Beneath all the trappings of status, beauty and wealth, Gianna was just a frightened little girl with absolutely no ambition to further her family's influence; but as the sole heiress to the Valli family fortune, the unwelcome responsibility was soon to rest squarely upon her shoulders.

"There is nothing to fear, mia nipotina adorato," her grandfather rasped softly.

Gianna quickly stood up, dragging her chair and placing herself closer, as she tried everything in her power to desperately save what little strength her grandfather had left. She prayed fervently by his side, selfishly wishing for him to stay with her for as long as his condition would allow him.

"What will I do without you, nonno?" Gianna lamented. "I cannot defend myself from the vultures that are sure to descend once they learn of your death. Nobody respects me the way they do _you_."

"Hush, now. Stop this nonsense. I did not raise you to cower in a corner like a mouse! You must rise above your fears, nipotina mia, and prevail as all the great heads of this family have done for centuries," Gianmarco said commandingly. He firmly held one of his granddaughter's trembling hands. "Listen _carefully_ to what I have to say, mia tesoruccio nipotina, for the shadow of death is now upon me." He gripped his granddaughter's hand tightly, much stronger than expected for someone in his weakened condition. "Of all our dealings throughout Italy, there is only _one_ man you can trust. Seek him out and he will help you past the ordeal of your transition as the new head of the Valli family."

Fumbling under the neckline of his linen pajama top, Gianmarco pulled free a gold chain from around his neck where a thumb-sized gilded key hung loosely from it.

"This is your salvation, nipotina mia," Gianmarco rasped with great strain as he placed the golden key in his granddaughter's palm, tightly encasing it with her own fingers. "The key unlocks this family's greatest treasure. Now, promise me this. Study the contents of the chest you find _before_ you contact the name engraved upon the key. Your life depends on it. _Promise_ me!"

The ferocity in her grandfather's eyes prompted Gianna's immediate answer.

"Good, good," Gianmarco said with a smile, patting his granddaughter's hands and gently wiping away the tears that flowed down her cheeks. "Now, I must leave you, mia nipotina adorato," he whispered, a final twinkle in his sad eyes.

The steady rise and fall of his chest then stopped, his head lolling to one side like a lead weight, his skin pale, cold and lifeless.

"Nonno...mi senti?" Gianna whispered softly, the tide of her tears distorting her vision. "Grandfather!"

Gianna Allegra Valli wailed out her remorse. Tightly clutching the golden key in her palm, she called to her grandfather repeatedly, well into the night.

o - o - o

A small pendant-key dangled loosely from a golden chain around Gianna's neck, concealed under her clothing, momentarily forgotten. The emotional turmoil of her bereavement in the days of her grandfather's funeral overshadowed everything. Faces she hadn't seen in years, familiar and unfamiliar, converged from all over Italy to pay their respects.

An exclusive reception was held at the Santa Maria delle Grazie church where there was an open casket viewing of Gianmarco Valli's lifeless body. He laid peacefully inside a black, perfectly polished coffin, the lid inscribed with the Valli family crest. Gianmarco was dressed in his finest suit, his body pillowed by the plush, golden satin interior, his face looking ten years younger and his fingers adorned with his favorite rings, some of which had precious stones the size of an American quarter.

One was easily mislead into believing that Gianmarco Valli was the Italian president seeing the magnitude and sheer lavishness of his funeral. Thousands of white roses decorated the interior of the basilica, a stark contrast against the continuous flow of mourners dressed in black that circulated his coffin. The church chosen in Milano for his visitation, the Santa Maria delle Grazie, was an international historical tourist attraction that sheltered Leonardo da Vinci's mural 'The Last Supper.' For this occasion, the basilica was unprecedentedly closed off from the general public for an entire week, the Valli family fortune easily covering the loss of revenue for the local officials.

Mechanically, Gianna greeted the visiting mourners that ranged from dignitaries, celebrities, local and foreign executives, to many international acquaintances. Her saccharine smile masked the contempt she felt toward those among the mourners she labeled 'vultures.' Greedy business associates and fragmented pockets of estranged relatives hovered nearby, hoping to lay claim to enormous portions of the Valli fortune. Disgusted, she secretly wished to scream her outrage at particular individuals present but held her tongue knowing that her grandfather would disapprove of such undignified behavior.

Just when Gianna thought that she needed to physically excuse herself from the church to clear her head, her eyes caught sight of someone who looked very much out of place in the sea of mourners. It was a young man in his early twenties with pale, iridescent skin and a thick mop of medium-length, mahogany hair that was neatly combed back. Fitted to his body was a well-tailored, dark grey suit and the young man moved with the eerie grace of a fictional aristocratic gentleman straight from a literary novel.

For Gianna, it seemed that time stood still.

Her eyes followed the young man as he casually walked up to her grandfather's casket and laid a single white rose on his chest, it's stem adorned with a black, silken ribbon. Strangest of all was that every time she tried to focus on his features to try to identify him, she _couldn't_. Speechless, she watched as the young man slipped away silently into the crowd like a passing shadow.

Gianna was so mesmerized by the vision, she was unaware that she stood gawking at nothing. Worried, her aids prodded her, freeing her from whatever spell that held her. Confused, she questioned her small entourage about what she saw...and was shocked to discover that she had been the only witness to the young man's appearance! Wisely, she dropped any further questions about the incident, pushing the image of the young man to the back of her mind.

The funeral service was lengthy and an impassioned sermon was delivered by a well-known Cardinal straight from the Vatican. The entire funeral had been prearranged in her grandfather's will and she wondered about the possible surprises in store for her on the day of the fundamental document's formal reading.

Surrounded by her aids and bodyguards, Gianna gazed upon her grandfather's face for the last time as the casket's lid slid shut. In slow procession, devout mourners followed eight, strong pallbearers that bore her grandfather's coffin into a black Bentley hearse idling at the entrance to the church, a multitude of expensive cars already falling in line behind it.

o - o - o

Months after her grandfather's funeral, Gianna had the unpleasant task of enduring the tidal wave of greedy claims to the Valli family fortune, despite her being named the sole heiress. Channeling her grandfather for spiritual strength, she bravely weathered the storm but at great personal cost. Left emotionally devastated, she retreated into the Valli mansion and became a recluse in her own home.

Nearly a week into her self-imposed exile, two stubborn men stood anxiously outside the mansion's master bedroom.

"How is she?" Dr. Orel Meier asked young Head Butler, Marcel Vasser, only son of a trusted manservant of the Valli family who was a close confidant of the recently deceased Gianmarco Valli. "Has she eaten anything?"

"Very little and she refuses to leave her room," Marcel answered in his cultured British accent.

Sighing, Dr. Meier cursed softly in German, cleaning the lenses of his round glasses with his handkerchief out of nervous habit. "That girl will be the death of me." Clearing his throat, he knocked on the solid oak door of the master bedroom. "Gianna? Bitte, open the door?"

The metal latch sealing the door shut was unlocked from the inside with a loud clack and Dr. Meier entered swiftly, the heavy oak door closing behind him automatically.

"Gianna, it's been over three days since you've eaten properly. I know you miss your grandfather. We all do, but letting your health slide is not the best way to honor his memory."

"Es geht," Gianna said softly in perfect German. "You don't have to worry about me, Orel. I just need a little more time alone."

"Fine. You may stay in this room for as long as you wish, but only under one condition."

"Yes?" Gianna said impatiently.

"Failure to comply with this simple request will force me to take drastic action," Dr. Meier added firmly, but kindly.

Smiling slightly, Gianna looked at the middle-aged doctor with raised eyebrows.

"This condition being?"

"Marcel's waiting outside with a cart-load of your favorite foods. It would please me greatly if you'd, at least, _eat_ some of it?"

After a few tense moments of silent deliberation, Gianna faced the large bay window in her room, looking out at the mansion's carefully manicured French gardens.

"Send him in," she replied softly, without turning around.

"Danke, mein Leibes," Dr. Meier said in relief.

True to her words, Gianna sampled everything on the food cart Marcel had wheeled into her room. She was surprisingly hungrier than she felt, her body forcing her to seek nourishment after days of self-deprivation. Dr. Meier had stayed a short while, watching her eat the first few mouthfuls and leaving once he was satisfied with her actions.

Alone with her thoughts, Gianna's eyes filled with tears the moment memories of her grandfather drifted through her mind. Her right hand subconsciously played with the golden pendant-key that hung from a gold chain woven like a cord around her neck.

Removing the necklace, she examined the pendant closely in the natural sunlight that shone past the tall, clear glass panes of her third-story bay window. It became a ritual of sorts; the pendant-key was a focal point for her remorse. Curling herself against large, soft pillows on a custom-built daybed below the bay window, Gianna held the thumb-sized gold key near her eyes, admiring the incredible detail of its craftsmanship. The longer she stared, the more she noticed that the numerous swirls and filigree carved into the pendant were far more intricate than she realized.

Perhaps it was the prolonged hunger that allowed her to see things that weren't there? Whatever the factors, it prompted her to recall something very important from her past.

As her eyes unfocused, a half-remembered scene from her childhood manifested itself...

_Her grandfather stood beside her father's casket with tears in his eyes. After he had whispered his goodbyes, his hands reached into the coffin and pulled out a golden necklace with a pendant in the shape of a key..._

She sat bolt upright and an unsettling chill travelled down her spine. Clutching the pendant tightly, she stood from her comfortable daybed and began pacing in broad strides.

The master bedroom had an adjoining private library which she then stormed into, sprinting to the darkest shelf that held an archive of leather-bound albums filled with family photographs spanning ten generations.

Pulling out the oldest, most weathered volume, Gianna flipped frantically through its pages, stopping to carefully examine every depicted portrait of the Valli family from that era.

When she found was she was searching for, she slammed the album shut.

Her azure eyes held a dark, determined glint as she quickly stripped off her clothing and headed straight for the large room's marble en suite bathroom, a multitude of questions flooding her mind. Questions that she had the resources to answer.

It was time that she stopped wallowing in grief and began honoring the promise she had made to her grandfather.

The following morning, the other servants saw Marcel's open surprise when the suddenly vibrant voice of the Valli family's newest heiress commanded that he made the necessary preparations for her immediate trip to Switzerland.

Once there, Gianna would consult the expertise of a man her grandfather frequently sought out to craft his entire personal collection of watches and jewelry. Perhaps the jeweler had some knowledge of the origins of her strange pendant.

On route to a private airport, Gianna's cellphone chimed Vivaldi.

"Pronto," Gianna answered curtly in her native Italian.

"Ich bin's," was the soft reply.

It was the voice of Dr. Orel Meier, exclusive physician to the Valli family and a good friend. She took a deep breath, switching the encrypted call to her other ear.

"I haven't gone crazy," Gianna said with a smile.

A gruff male voice asked rather worriedly, "What's in Switzerland?"

"I don't need your permission. I go where I wish."

"Is Marcel with you?"

"Isn't he always?" she said, briefly glancing at her chauffeur's handsome face reflected on the limo's rear view mirror through the retracting interior bulletproof window. She rode in the reinforced rear cab of a specially designed Maybach 62 S Zeppelin - a final gift from her late grandfather. Knowing her birthright, he spared no expense for her safety. "Don't tell me the vultures are descending again?"

"It may be inevitable," Dr. Meier replied. "How long will you be away?"

"As long as it takes for me to solve a mystery," she answered, then paused. "I made a promise to my grandfather, Orel, and I can't stop until I've fulfilled it."

"I see."

She then added softly, "You'll have to look after things till I return."

"I understand," Dr. Meier conceded reluctantly. "Gianna?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful...and come back soon."

"I will," she replied and ended the call.

o - o - o

Amid Switzerland's most expensive international brand names of clothing, jewelry and accessories, and tucked within the decadent shopping paradise of Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich, was a modest little store owned by a well-respected local artisan family.

The shop itself was a humble contrast to the flamboyantly modern architecture of the surrounding area, and visiting tourists as well as locals, constantly puzzled over the continued success and perseverance of the tiny establishment. The current proprietor, Halli Von Hottiger, was the eldest son in twelve generations of a long line of distinguished jewelers, all proudly following their family's unique tradition of creating the most intricately complicated jewelry sculptures ever done by hand. The shop's exclusive clientele boasted even the loyal patronage of eminent royal families, reclusive multibillionaires and eccentric collectors from all around the world. Adding to the shop's mystique was its nameless storefront where an abstract symbol - a circle with an esoteric representation of a V and an H were depicted - was boldly and prominently displayed, rumored to have been carved from a single solid brass block.

As proof to new customers or curious onlookers of the shop's prestigious work, Halli himself would sit by the front window, patiently carving away on commissioned projects.

That was how Gianna found the man when she walked into the shop. Dressed from head to toe in Prada clothing and Hermés accessories, her manservant and personal bodyguard at her side, Gianna came to a stop near a glass barrier. Hunched over his work and with his back in her direction, the man she'd flown over to see so urgently was blissfully unaware of her arrival.

When clearing her throat politely hadn't worked, Gianna resorted to tapping on the glass which she instantly regretted.

Cursing loudly in German and bodily jerking from his hunched position, the man who she thought was Halli angrily yelled out.

"What the hell? Are you illiterate? Do Not Disturb! Can't you see I'm doing delicate work here?" bellowed a young man in English with an American accent as he turned around to glare at her.

"Forgive me, I-I thought you were Halli," Gianna said apologetically.

"Oh!" the young man said awkwardly, having just realized that he'd chewed out a potential female customer. "Uh...Halli's not here at the moment...he had to deliver something personally to one of his clients. I-I'm sincerely sorry for yelling at you. I wasn't expecting anyone to come into the shop till three." He then extended his right hand and introduced himself in perfect Italian. "Il mio nome è Leo. IO sono un apprendista qui per l estate." [My name's Leo. I'm apprenticing here for the summer.]

Startled by the young man's flawless transition to her native language, Gianna hesitantly shook his hand. "Sono lieto di incontrarvi, Leo," she answered back pleasantly. [Pleased to meet you, Leo.] Tilting her head quizzically to the side, she added in English, "You speak excellent Italian."

"I majored in Linguistics at Cambridge but my passion's making jewelry," Leo grinned. "So, here I am."

Gianna exchanged an amused glance with her bodyguard, Marcel. "How long before Halli returns?"

"Not until later tonight, I'm afraid," Leo replied. "He's been away all day on business in Vaduz. I've been watching the shop till he gets back. I can text him if it's urgent, Miss...?"

"No need. I can come back tomorrow," Gianna answered and promptly exited the shop with her companion.

Scratching his head, Leo watched the strange but attractive woman walk away for a long moment before returning to his work.

"What now?" Marcel asked as they strolled outside in the busy Bahnhofstrasse shopping district.

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something to do to pass the time," Gianna said mischievously.

The following day, Gianna returned with Marcel to the little jewelry shop, her body clothed in a tastefully stylish formfitting dress with Louis Vuitton accents.

"So much like your father," Halli reprimanded with a tsk, shaking his head. "What is so urgent that you choose to forego a simple courtesy call?"

"Hello, Halli," Gianna smiled brightly and they embraced warmly. "How have you been?"

"I've been good," Halli replied and his face went somber for a moment. He was part of a selected group of the late Gianmarco Valli's close friends and family who were given a private viewing of his body at the funeral. "I shall miss your grandfather. He was quite a man."

"I will miss him very much," Gianna said sadly, tears flooding her eyes.

"Come, let us retire to the back for some tea."

As Marcel stood attentively to the side, Gianna and her grandfather's favorite jeweler spoke of memorable moments. As she listened to Halli's spirited storytelling, it amazed her how scarcely the man had aged since she'd first seen him as a child...and it dawned on her that the Von Hottiger establishment itself felt eerily unchanged! If it hadn't been for her unexpected meeting with the American apprentice yesterday -

"Gianna, my dear, are you all right?" Halli asked with concern.

"I'm sorry," Gianna answered, then blushed in embarrassment. "It seems my mind had wandered."

"No worries, you have much on your mind," Halli said, his eyes drifting to the golden cord around her neck. "I believe you came to see me about that pendant you keep hidden?"

Her hand reflexively touched the pendant-key that left a telltale bump from under her clothing.

"What can you tell me about this pendant?" she asked resolutely.

"It unlocks the Valli family's greatest treasure," Halli explained plainly, "a precious heirloom that has been safeguarded by the Valli family since it was acquired in the fifteen-hundreds."

"If this heirloom is so important, why have I not heard of its existence before Grandfather's death?" she asked in confusion.

"It is a delicate matter," Halli said. "I think it's best that I show you."

Intrigued, Gianna followed the old jeweler as he led them through the cozy living space behind the shop's storefront and into another room. The anteroom was small and empty but featured an impeccably polished pair of dark-stained double-doors that were richly inlaid with bronze. Her eyes were drawn to the keyhole below the door's large latches, and she remembered trying to peek through it as a child to see what was on the other side. Today, her curiosity would be completely satisfied and she felt a bit apprehensive when Halli inserted a thick, bronze key and turned it to the right with a resounding click.

"As the current matriarch of the Valli Family, only you may enter, Gianna. Marcel and I cannot cross the threshold of this room," Halli instructed gruffly. When he saw the young man's protective glare, he added, "Have no fear, Marcel. No harm will befall her, but if it sets you at ease, I can leave the doors open."

When the double-doors were parted, Gianna gasped softly when they were greeted by the total _absence_ of light. Even the ambient brightness around them failed to illuminate the room beyond the doorframe. Despite Halli's reassurance, the unnatural darkness that shrouded the strange room made her shudder and she wondered what imagined horrors lay within the inky pitch.

Smiling courageously, Gianna turned to her friend and bodyguard. "Don't worry, Marcel, I'll be fine." She turned to address Halli. "What must I do?"

"Enter the room and you will know," the old man said cryptically.

Cursing softly to herself, Gianna took a deep breath and stepped into the eerie blackness.

She felt nothing but the rapid beating of her heart and the slow, shallow breaths from her lungs. She trembled with barely suppressed anxiety as she took measured strides forward, her feet gratefully stepping on a smooth, solid surface. She had no frame of reference for which direction she should be headed since there was no improvement to the inky darkness that enveloped her. Resisting the urge to turn around, she continued nervously on what she hoped was a straight path.

_It's like I stepped off the edge of the world_, Gianna thought to herself.

After long moments of walking that felt like an eternity, her eyes caught the faintest amount of what seemed like candlelight a few feet away.

Just how large was this room?

Her pace quickened as Gianna allowed herself to be drawn to the light like a moth.

The only source of light came from a solitary black candle that was fused securely to a stone table by numerous veins of melted wax. Apart from the table, Gianna could see nothing else but the inky darkness.

Was the place cursed? Though Halli had stated that no harm would come to her, Gianna's apprehension mounted. The disconcerting freakishness of her surroundings were impossible to ignore.

Clutching the pendant-key between her fingers as if she were drawing strength from it, Gianna approached a small, red chest that was perfectly centered on top of the stone table. Her first impulse was to immediately use the pendant-key to see if it fit the small chest's lock, but a gut feeling compelled her to be patient.

Cautiously, she reached out to touch the small, red chest and her fingers recoiled when her skin felt the chill temperature of a winter frost.

The small chest was ice cold! How was that possible? The room she stood in felt no cooler than 19 degrees Celsius. (66.2 degrees Fahrenheit) The mounting strangeness of her surroundings mercilessly threatened to unravel her composure.

Was this place some kind of..._test_? Gianna wondered. The idea itself seemed somewhat ridiculous since outlandish situations like these only happened in movies!

Removing the necklace from around her neck, Gianna placed the pendant-key on the stone table. Reaching out with her hands, she lifted the red chest - which felt no heavier than a large encyclopedia - and placed it closer to her so she could examine it.

The wooden chest's finish was exceptionally smooth. It was polished to an almost glassy shine which gave its red color a magnificent vibrancy. The longer she stared at the vivid red, the more it seemed to evoke the fire of life itself...and the closest representation of the flaming hue that Gianna was reminded of was…

_Blood_, she thought to herself.

A skilled craftsman had decided to devote himself to the painstaking task of creating the richest, the most lifelike red she had ever seen.

Taking the pendant-key, Gianna felt that it was now time to open the chest.

o - o - o

"She's been in there a long time," Marcel said in protest, his voice heavy with worry. He stared in the direction of the small anteroom from the cozy living space sequestered behind the shop's storefront. Hanni's apprentice, Leo, had arrived for his duty shift and took care of the shop while they attended to more personal matters.

"Gianna's perfectly safe and healthy, I can assure you of that," the old jeweler said with a chuckle. He sat reading a thick book on a soft, leather couch. A silver tea service was within easy reach in front of him on a low table. Reaching over, he prepared a cup for the agitated young man that stood nearby. "Marcel. I insist that you sit down and have a drink."

"I think I'll be needing something stronger than tea," Marcel replied.

"Nonsense," Halli said and pointed to a recliner. "Sit."

Sighing audibly, Marcel sat down impudently and made exaggerated motions to drink his tea. He took a good, long, noisy sip, put down the cup and saucer, and sat back with a comical 'Ahhh,' all the while locking eyes with his amused host. "Happy?"

"I'm not the one distraught over nothing," Halli said, returning to reading his book. "Help yourself to a good book, watch a movie or play games on that fancy phone you carry, whatever you do, I want you to _relax_."

Turning his head in the direction of the small anteroom, Marcel squinted, willing his eyes to magically pierce through the wall of darkness that Gianna had bravely stepped into. Whatever was happening in that foreboding black room, he could only hope that she had found the answers she sought.

o - o - o

Wincing, Gianna carefully stretched her sore, stiff limbs. Her bare feet were numb from standing too long on a cold, stone floor. At some point, she had removed her shoes and shoved them aside while she read.

The beautiful handwritten calligraphy of the journal's mysterious author was almost hypnotic. The detailed descriptions in every paragraph were comprehensive and compelling. She couldn't stop reading until the journal's very last page...and it was only the first volume!

Not _the_ first volume of the series, but a first in a selected sequence.

The five 8x10 inch handwritten journals were placed side by side on the stone table, each stamped with roman numerals, and at the back, there was a golden crest she was unfamiliar with. The journal Gianna had just finished reading had the roman numbers, DXV (515). The journals were numbered from DXV to DXX. (515 - 520)

What fascinated her the most about the journals was the written information. It gave her a revelation so _profound_, her mind still reeled from the knowledge.

Gathering up the journals, she stacked them neatly into the red chest and secured the lock. With the necklace again around her neck and the pendant-key tucked safely under her clothing, she lifted the red chest and took it with her.

Unlike before, she now knew instinctively where to go despite the inky darkness that surrounded her. Feeling more elated than afraid, Gianna emerged from the dark room with a new purpose...and a new obsession.

* * *

_Present day, somewhere in the city of Milano, Italy…_

Jane and Alec ascended the twisting marble stairwell of a private residence located in a rather questionable neighborhood. The building's interior was surprisingly lavish in comparison to its exterior; the outside walls blending harmoniously with the dilapidated area.

The vampire twins were here to meet a scholar from a secretive sect that Sigrun had contacted, a brave (or foolish) man who was willing to provide evidence that Gianna's journals were an elaborate forgery. Jane was more than eager to listen to what the human had to say, and if she was satisfied by the man's information, she would drag the protesting meat-sack to Lord Aro for a private meeting.

"Must we knock?" Alec said derisively and frowned. He wanted to simply kick down the door. Humans were nothing more than food to him.

"We're not barbarians, Brother," Jane admonished and knocked on the thick, wooden door. "Professor Middleton? We're here on behalf of Sigrun regarding something important you'd like to show us?" Beside her, Alec rolled his eyes, disgusted that she was wasting time on insignificant _human_ pleasantries.

Another series of louder knocks still yielded no result. Was the Professor away?

"So much for courtesy," Jane said with a frown.

Using her right hand, she effortlessly punched through the thick wooden door, ripping away its entire locking mechanism, the shattered metal pieces falling to the hallway in sharp thunks.

The moment Jane and Alec entered the room, they grimaced and gagged when their acute vampire senses were assailed by the necrotic smell of rotting flesh. When they whisked to investigate, to their surprise, they found that Sigrun's contact had been murdered days before, the man's suite, ransacked.

With her fists clenched tightly at her sides, Jane screamed in anger and frustration.

At that precise moment, Gianna Valli sat behind her desk within the Volturi compound of Volterra as she attended to her calendar of tasks for the day. Casually glancing at her Tiffany & Co. Patek Phillippe watch, her bright red lips smirked ever so slightly.

* * *

Carlisle was at a loss. His centuries of accumulated medical knowledge and study were useless. He simply had no basis or precedent for treating an injured alien.

"Edward, I'm sorry...but there isn't much more I can do for him," he said sadly.

Spock's body was slowly shutting down.

"No!" Alice said desperately, looking heartbroken. "He mustn't die. He can't! There must be something we can do. _Anything!_" She stared desperately at Edward.

"There might be a way," he said softy, gazing determinedly at the unconscious Spock.

"_No_," Carlisle said firmly, predicting exactly what his eldest would attempt. "There's no way to know what will happen. He's _dying_, Edward. If you enter his thoughts now, he might take your mind with him!"

"I'm the only hope he has left," he argued. "I am _not_ gonna watch him die!"

A grim hush enveloped the room.

"Jasper, for this to work, I'm going to need your help," Edward begged. "You'll be my anchor to the outside world in case I begin to lose myself."

"Too late, Brother, you've already lost it," Emmett mumbled, but not unkindly. He and Rosalie now felt a great measure of guilt for their rude behavior toward their alien guest. "Go fetch him, and good luck."

"Be careful," Esme said with a gentle smile and kissed Edward on the cheek. She then gazed at Spock who laid unconscious and frightfully pale on their living room couch. Bending down, she planted a gentle kiss on the alien's forehead and whispered, "Please, come back to us."

Without delay, Edward crouched down beside the couch and took a deep, unnecessary breath. He gripped the alien's wrist with his left hand and with his right, planted his fingers clumsily along invisible points on one side of Spock's face and concentrated.

_((Spock! Don't you DARE give up like this! Cosmic accident or not - you're not a quitter, are you? Isn't knowledge your entire Vulcan way of life? Aren't you the least bit curious how this bizarre new chapter of your life plays out? Wake up! SPOCK! Do you hear me?))_

With great apprehension, Carlisle watched as his firstborn vampire son tried to communicate with the alien using his unique psychic gift. With no way of knowing the true outcome of the dangerous gamble, he could only hope that it didn't result in reducing Edward to a mindless husk.

Beside his eldest son knelt Jasper, the 'youngest' and newest addition to their family who arrived with his enigmatic mate, Alice. His face was grimaced in deep concentration, his left hand firmly attached to Edward's wrist. Though physical contact wasn't a requirement for his special talents, Carlisle guessed that the action was requested.

Leaning against the couch's armrest above Spock's head knelt Alice, her chin on her forearms, her eyes shut. Whether she mimicked Edward's or Jasper's current state, Carlisle was unsure, but he had observed that she'd grown fiercely attached to their alien guest the moment he arrived. Had she seen a vision of the future concerning Spock?

"If there's one person who can help him, it's Edward," Esme said softly as she stood closely by her mate who then embraced her from behind for comfort. She smiled when Carlisle nuzzled her neck and she reached up with her hand to caress the side of his face.

"I certainly hope so…" he whispered worriedly as he clung to Esme, his voice dismal.

The rest of the Cullen family waited patiently as they solemnly kept vigil over the silent battle of wills that took place before them. Spock's heartbeat had slowed considerably, returning to an interval almost similar to when he was comatose, except that this time, his body wasn't trying to heal itself.

"I don't understand it," Esme spoke softy, "I thought Spock was recovering from his injuries, better than you thought possible."

"It seems I was wrong," Carlisle replied sadly. "He may have internal injuries far greater than he's leading us to believe. To truly help him, I need to know more about his alien physiology. " He paused, looking reflective. "Although, I think Spock's injuries are aggravated by other factors. He told us so himself: everything and everyone he's ever known..._gone_ in the blink of an eye...but the worst part is...he's lost hope."

"Don't worry, Edward will reach him," Alice said confidently. "He _has_ to."

"You saw something, didn't you?" Rosalie's statement sounded like an accusation. "You've been obsessed with that alien the minute you saw him!"

"What I _saw_ was incomplete," Alice answered, irritated.

To which a frustrated Rosalie replied testily, "Mind sharing whatever precious thing you saw with the rest of us?"

"If Spock dies, the vision dies with him," Alice stated flatly.

"Being optimistic isn't enough," Rosalie pointed out as Alice glared at her. "Let's face it, how do you save someone who _wants_ do die?"

"Give the guy a reason to live?" Emmett said offhandedly with a grin. In his mind, they were currently taking part in a primetime Science Fiction drama that his warped sense of humor found hilarious.

"Yes, that it!" Alice said excitedly with a squeal. Leaping to her feet in a blur, she gave her big, brawny brother a peck on the cheek. "Em, you're a genius!"

"I am?" Emmett said in confusion.

They watched as Alice darted to Edward's side and she bent near him as if to whisper something into his ear, then remained frozen in that position.

Spock's skin was still deathly pale and the rest of the Cullen family wondered if Edward had made any sort of progress averting the alien's deteriorating condition.

"His heart-rate's still slow...but at least it hasn't stopped," Carlisle reported, grateful that his sensitive hearing detected no change...at least for the moment.

In all the collective memories of each Cullen family member, not one of them could recall any incidents in their lives that remotely compared to the magnitude of what was presently happening. Not only were they staring at bonafide _proof_ of the existence of extraterrestrial life...they were forced to watch as that life slowly slipped away.

When Edward, Alice and Jasper suddenly broke free from the alien, the trio collapsed to the floor like rag dolls. The rest of the Cullens rushed their sides and feared the worst when no one responded to being vigorously shaken.

"Easy, Big Brother," Jasper protested as he sluggishly woke. His arms felt the unmistakable pressure of Emmett's crushing grip. "Alice?"

"Here…" she replied, feeling groggy. Her body felt like it was drained of energy and she clung to Jasper as they were helped to their feet.

"Ooohhh, that really doesn't get any easier," Edward groused as he sat up, leaning weakly against the couch. He turned his head to regard the unconscious alien and said simply, "He's going to live."

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Correspondence:**

09sasha - Thank you very much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far and please try to forgive the (nasty) very long updates...

emalico - Your pleas have been heard! I labored to get this latest installment out. Hope ya like it. ^_^

Rokkis - I'm tickled pink too knowing that you're enjoying this crazy fic. LOL.

Jisa - Sorry for the long update time but I haven't given up on this story, so I hope you hand in there. ;D

minijo1990 - Not everyone's sold on the Twilight films. I basically watch them for fun and use it strictly for inspiration. Nothing like visuals to spur me onward. LOL. 'Grumpy lady' or not, we were all young once, so we know how young love feels. I think it's part of the appeal to such a broad audience. (teens can relate, older fans try to recapture the moment)

Sweetie7smiled - Many Thanks! I find it just as fascinating! xD

Lady SiriusCrowBlack - Spock isn't too happy with me right now, since I stranded the poor guy in totally unknown territory. LOL

mykardia - It was inevitable that Edward latched onto Spock, since the unwilling alien's the most interesting phenomenon in all his 150 year existence.

Kanashii Kopper - Such kind flattery - I thank you most deeply! On the subject of developing my writing as a serious author, for now, in all sincerity, what I'm doing is pure escapist entertainment. ^_^ But rest assured, I will continue my endeavor of translating the crazy visuals I have in my head via keyboard for my readers to enjoy. (I am grateful for your vigilance, as well, of keeping on top of the little things I may have missed.)

Drusilla Braun - My sincerest wish to to see this story through to a satisfying end. Your support is deeply appreciated.

TheBestDamnThing96 - I bow to your awesome kudos and support (Sara & Lexie) - you're both too kind! I love both the Twilight and Star Trek universes and this humble author shall do her best to put her ideas to paper.

TheTrekkieGirl - Hehehe. Great minds think alike. Besides, by combining two fandoms into one story, you're giving readers a 'two-for-one' extravaganza. xD

Caroline - I'm so touched by your compliments, thank you! Sending me all your positive energy keeps my muse ablaze with inspiration, resulting in shorter update times! :D

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Please forgive my poorly translated Italian and German. ^_^

The city of Vaduz is in the tiny country of Liechtenstein.

Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich, Switzerland is one of the most expensive shopping districts for luxury items and brand names. A definite playground for the rich and famous.

Feel free to read my short one-shot fic 'From Within These Walls' starring selected members of the Voluri. It supplements some of what's happening in this chapter.

My Original Characters:

Gianna's grandfather, Gianmarco Valli, is played by actor Armin Mueller-Stahl from the movie 'Angels and Demons', who was in the role of Cardinal Strauss. (He was the first person who came to mind!)

Dr. Orel Meier, Valli family doctor, is played by Christoph Waltz who was the villainous Col. Hans Landa in 'Inglorious Basterds' and a tragic hero of sorts in Django. (Quite a change of pace for him. LOL.)

Young Head Butler to the Valli family household, Marcel, who's role is filled by the lovely faced Kevin Zegers. (Hey, I like my man-candy.)

Sigrun is a Viking-born vampire who is fiercely loyal to Athenodora. She is jealous and irritated by Sulpicia's status and presence. Allies herself to whoever piques her interest.

* * *

***I'd like to extend a very special Thank You to *the chatteringmagpie* who gave me the encouraging nudge I desperately needed!***

...and to everyone who left me notes: Thank you for your support! Love you all!

(=^_^=)


End file.
